THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MARK    STE ADMAN; 


OB, 


SHOW  YOUR  COLORS. 


FEOM  THE   LONDON   TEACT   SOCIETY. 


PUBLISHED   BY  THE 
AMERICAN  TEACT   SOCIETY, 

150  NASSAU-STKEET,  NEW  YOKE. 


"PZ6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Mark  at  Home PAGE      5 

CHAPTER  II. 
Captain  Jack 

CHAPTER  HI. 
Captain  Jack's  Story - —     34 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Leaving  Home <• 49 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  First  Sunday 68 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Trials  and  Encouragements- 95 

CHAPTER  VIL 
A  Trial  of  Principle Ill 


6228S5 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEK 

As  ia  the  Master,  so  is  the  Servant 


CHAPTEE  IX. 
The  Scarlet  Fever 150 

CHAPTEK  X. 
The  Visitor  and  the  Sick  Penitent 173 


CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Return  Home 198 


MARK  STEADMAN; 

OE, 


CHAPTEE  I. 


" 


MARK  AT  HOM.E. 

THE  long  beams  of  the  afternoon  sun 
were  streaming  down  the  dusty  white 
street  of  a  seaport  town  in  South  Wales. 
The  heat  had  driven  even  those  visitors 
who  usually  astonish  the  inhabitants  of 
such  a  place  as  this  by  their  defiance  of 
sun  and  glare,  to  take  refuge  in  their 
shady  lodgings.  Not  a  sound  therefore 
broke  the  sleepy  silence  of  the  summer 
afternoon,  and  scarcely  a  human  being 
was  to  be  seen,  excepting  that  at  the  door 


6  MARK    STEADMAN. 

of  a  small  shop  in  the  upper  end  of  the 
street  a  young  lad  was  standing,  who 
every  now  and  then  came  out  upon  the 
pavement,  and  gazed  down  the  street 
towards  the  sea,  as  though  he  were  look- 
ing out  for  some  one. 

Over  the  door  of  this  shop  was  a  board, 
on  which  was  painted  the  announcement, 

MARY  STEADMAN, 

LICENSED  DEALER  IN  TOBACCO,  SNUFFS,  ETC. 

while  in  the  window  was  displa}Ted  an 
array  of  pipes  of  every  sort  and  descrip- 
tion, from  the  well-known  sailor's  short 
pipe  to  the  most  singular  productions  in 
porcelain,  with  twisted  stems  and  col- 
ored tassels. 

On  a  pedestal  inside  the  door  stood  a 
small  individual,  who  was  not  only  re- 
garded as  a  very  important  personage 
in  the  Steadman  family,  but  was  also  the 
wonder  and  admiration  of  all  the  chil- 
dren in  the  town.  This  was  a  little  fig- 


MAKK   AT   HOME.  7 

ure  in  .Highland  costume,  commonly 
known  by  the  name  of  Dumbiedikes, 
who  held  in  his  hand  an  enormous  mull, 
supposed  to  contain  the  best  Scotch 
snuff,  and  from  which  he  appeared  to 
invite  all  the  passers-by  to  take  a  pinch. 
The  young  lad  who  stood  in  the  door- 
way of  this  shop  might  have  been  about 
sixteen  years  of  age,  though  from  his 
height  he  scarcely  looked  as  much,  for 
he  was  short,  but  at  the  same  time  firmly 
and  strongly  built.  The  expression  of 
his  face  did  not  display  any  unusual 
intelligence  or  quickness  of  perception ; 
it  indicated  rather  a  cautious  thoughtful- 
ness,  accompanied  by  much  quiet  deter- 
mination. He  did  not  look  like  a  char- 
acter so  likely  to  gain  at  starting  in  the 
race  of  life  as  like  one  who  would  hold 
out  without  flagging  to  the  end  ;  but  per- 
haps what  was  the  most  remarkable  in 
his  appearance  was,  the  utter  absence  of 


8  MAKK   STEADMAN. 

all  thought  of  himself,  and  the  perfect 
simplicity  and  directness  exhibited  in 
every  word  and  action. 

There  was  nothing  indolent  in  his  atti- 
tude, as  he  stood  thus  in  the  doorway, 
looking  every  now  and  then  down  the 
street;  but  he  appeared  to  be  waiting 
for  some  one  with  patient  composure, 
rather  than  merely  endeavoring  to  while 
away  the  time. 

"Ah,  old  Dumbiedikes !"  exclaimed 
he  at  last,  looking  up  at  the  little  High- 
lander on  the  pedestal  beside  him,  "if 
I  ever  do  make  a  fortune,  as  Uncle  Wat- 
son says,  you  must  have  a  new  coat; 
for  I  declare  you  have  never  had  a  bit 
of  new  paint  upon  you  these  seven  years, 
and  it  would  be  hard  to  say  now  what 
your  colors  are."  And  then  the  recol- 
lection recurred  to  his  mind  that,  many 
years  ago,  when  he  was  quite  a  little 
boy,  his  father  had  once  told  him,  in  an- 


MAKE  AT   HOME.  9 

swer  to  some  childish  question  he  had 
asked  about  the  little  Highlander,  that 
the  Scottish  clans  each  wore  a  dress  of 
a  particular  color  and  pattern,  so  that, 
as  soon  as  you  saw  a  man,  you  could  tell 
at  once  whether  he  were  a  Campbell,  a 
Lindsay,  or  a  Macgregor,  and  thus  rec- 
ognize in  him  a  friend  or  foe,  and  treat 
him  accordingly.  "And  so  it  is  in  the 
world,  Mark,  as  you  will  find  some  day," 
his  father  added;  "we  must  carry  our 
colors  about  with  us,  and  not  be  ashamed 
to  show  them,  in  order  that  folks  may 
see  at  once  what  we  mean,  and  to  which 
side  we  wish  to  belong  in  the  great  strife 
between  God  and  the  devil." 

As  Mark  was  thinking  over  this,  and 
reflecting  that  the  time  of  which  his  fa- 
ther had  spoken  as  "some  day"  was 
now  probably  come  for  him,  he  caught 
sight  of  a  woman  in  black,  walking  slowly 
up  the  street.  "There's  mother  at  last," 


10  MARK   STEADMAN. 

said  he  to  himself,  "and  now  I  shall  hear 
what  Uncle  Jack  thinks  about  my  going 
to  Bristol." 

Mrs.  Steadman  soon  came  up,  and 
smiled  as  she  looked  at  her  son's  ex- 
pectant face  ;  she  said  nothing,  however, 
but  quietly  followed  him  into  the  house. 

"I  have  put  the  kettle  on,  mother," 
said  Mark;  "and  now  while  you  are 
taking  off  your  things  I  '11  make  the  tea, 
and  then  you  can  tell  me  what  Uncle 
Jack  thinks  about  it,  before  the  children 
come  in." 

Mark  then  carried  the  tea-tray  with 
the  cups  and  saucers,  and  the  bread  and 
butter,  into  the  little  parlor  at  the  back 
of  the  shop,  where  he  set  them  out  as 
neatly  as  he  could  upon  the  table  in 
front  of  the  open  window,  and  presently 
his  mother  again  entered  the  room. 

"I'm  afraid  you've  had  a  very  hot 
walk,  mother,"  said  Mark,  as  Mrs.  Stead- 


HARK    AT    HOME.  11 

man  took  her  seat  at  the  table  ;  "I  hope 
you  found  Uncle  Jack  at  home." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  replied  she,  "  fortu- 
nately, he  had  just  come  in,  and  so  I 
showed  him  Mr.  Watson's  letter  ;  and 
after  turning  the  matter  over  in  his  mind, 
he  came  to  just  the  same  decision  as  we 
did.  He  thinks  there  is  no  doubt  that 
you  ought  to  go ;  and  he  advises  that 
you  should  write  to  your  Uncle  Watson 
by  to-night's  post,  thanking  him  for  his 
proposal,  and  telling  him  that  you  will 
hold  jTourself  in  readiness  to  come  a? 
soon  as  he  wishes." 

"  Very  well,  "mother,"  replied  Mark, 
"I  dare  say  it's  all  right.  If  I  don't 
make  a  fortune,  as  Uncle  Watson  proph- 
esies, I  may  at  any  rate  be  able  to  help 
you  more  than  by  staying  at  home  here 
in  the  shop,  now  that  Joe  is  old  enough 
to  take  my  place." 

"You  see,  if  Joe  was  a    strong  and 


12  JHARK   STEADMAN. 

healthy  lad  like  you,  it  would  be  differ- 
ent," said  Mrs.  Stead  man.  "It  would 
be  more  natural  then  for  him  to  go  out 
into  something  else,  and  for  you,  being 
the  eldest,  to  take  to  the  business  here ; 
but  as  it  is,  you  know,  he  is  often  fit  for 
nothing  but  to  lie  by  and  be  nursed,  so 
that  I  should  be  in  constant  anxiety  if  he 
were  away  from  me  ;  and  besides,  with 
his  health,  no  one  would  like  to  take 
him." 

"  No,  certainly,"  said  Mark  ;  "there 's 
no  doubt  I  'in  the  one  to  go,  if  any  one 
does." 

"Yes,"  replied  his  mother;  "and 
though  I  shall  miss  you  so  much,  Mark, 
more  than  I  can  tell  you,  yet  I  think  in 
every  way  this  will  be  a  good  thing  for 
you.  Your  uncle  has  made  a  good  deal 
of  money  in  the  business  ;  for  I  remem- 
ber hearing  some  years  ago,  when  your 
aunt,  your  father's  sister,  was  living, 


HARK   AT   HOME.  13 

that  he  was  considered  a  rich,  well-to- 
do  man,  and  of  course  this  may  be  in 
many  ways  a  good  thing  for  you.  He 
has  no  sons,  only  three  little  girls,  and 
if  you  get  on  well  with  him,  you  might 
get  a  share  in  the  business  some  day. 
Besides,  as  Uncle  Jack  says,  it  7s  not 
good  for  any  one  to  spend  all  his  life  in 
one  place,  just  among  his  own  family 
and  friends,  and  never  to  be  tried  at  all, 
so  as  to  see  the  stuff  he  's  made  of.  It 
has  been  very  smooth  sailing  for  you 
hitherto ;  you  have  had  nothing  to  try 
you  as  yet,  my  boy." 

"That's  true,  mother,"  replied  Mark 
thoughtfully. 

"  But  still,"  said  Mrs.  Steadman,  "as 
I  wras  saying  to  Uncle  Jack  when  he  be- 
gan to  speak  of  the  dangers  you  'd  be 
likely  to  meet  with  in  the  world,  God  is 
as  much  in  one  place  as  in  another,  and 
as  able  to  keep  us  from  falling  there  as 


14  MARK   STEADMAN. 

here ;  and  I  can't  think  that  you,  hav- 
ing once  begun,  as  I  do  hope  and  trust 
you  have,  to  walk  in  the  narrow  way, 
would  be  for  turning  back  and  forget- 
ting all  you  have  heard  and  felt." 

"I  hope  not,  mother,"  answered  Mark ; 
"but  I  expect  it's  rather  a  different 
thing;  however,  I  think  I  will  get  the 
letter-case,  and  write  at  once  to  Uncle 
Watson,  before  the  children  come  in." 

The  letter  had  to  be  re-written  once 
or  twice,  for  it  was  to  be  a  specimen  of 
Mark's  best  writing  and  composition  ; 
and  before  it  was  finished,  Mary  and 
Joe  Steadman,  with  the  two  younger 
children,  came  in  from  their  walk,  so 
that  the  evening  passed  away  without 
any  further  conversation  between  Mark 
and  his  mother  over  his  future  prospects. 

Mrs.  Steadman  had  been  a  widow  for 
about  six  years.  Neither  she  nor  her 
husband  was  a  native  of  South  Wales, 


MARK   AT   HOME.  15 

but  tliey  had  removed  there  from  South- 
ampton a  short  time  after  her  marriage. 
On  her  husband's  death,  the  widow  found 
many  kind  friends  around  her,  by  whose 
aid  she  had  been  enabled  to  carry  on 
the  business,  and  thus  support  herself 
and  her  five  children.  Of  these,  Mark 
was  the  eldest;  and  for  the  last  three 
years  he  had  helped  his  mother  in  the 
shop ;  but  now  his  younger  brother  Jo- 
seph was  thirteen,  and  quite  able  to 
take  his  place ;  and  being,  moreover,  a 
delicate  boy,  his  mother  was  anxious  to 
keep  him  near  her.  Something,  there- 
fore, had  to  be  found  for  Mark.  Uncle 
Jack  had  suggested  the  sea ;  but  Mark, 
though  possessed  of  some  of  the  quali- 
ties needful  to  form  a  good  sailor,  had 
not  that  peculiar  passion  for  a  seafaring 
life  which  is  so  strong  in  some  bo}\s,  and 
which  carries  them  through  all  its  hard- 
ships and  dangers. 


16  MARK   STEADMAN. 

In  her  perplexity,  it  had  occurred  to 
Mrs.  Steadman  to  write  and  ask  the  ad- 
vice of  Mr.  Watson,  her  husband's  broth- 
er-in-law, who  had  a  long-established 
linen  drapery  business  in  Bristol.  In 
reply  to  this  letter,  Mr.  Watson  had 
proposed  to  employ  Mark  in  his  own 
business  for  six  months  on  trial ;  after 
which,  if  he  went  on  well,  and  seemed 
likely  to  succeed  in  this  kind  of  employ- 
ment, he  offered  to  provide  him  with  a 
permanent  situation. 

It  was  a  subject  requiring  a  good  deal 
of  consideration  before  either  Mark  or 
his  mother  could  decide  that  it  would  be 
right  to  accept  this  proposal.  Mr.  Wat- 
son, it  was  true,  was  Mark's  uncle ;  that 
is  to  say,  he  had  married  the  sister  of 
Mr.  Steadman ;  but  she  had  been  dead 
for  some  years,  so  that  the  relationship 
might  almost  be  said  to  have  dropped ; 
at  any  rate,  Mrs.  Steadman's  acquaint- 


MARK   AT   HOME.  17 

ance  with  Mr.  Watson  was  very  slight 
indeed.  Another  difficulty  was,  the  de- 
ficient education  which  Mark  had  re- 
ceived. It  was  all  that  his  mother  had 
been  abje  to  afford  him,  but  they  both 
felt  certain  it  must  be  very  inferior  to 
what  other  young  men  in  that  position 
usually  enjoyed ;  and  it  was  a  question 
whether  he  would  really  be  competent 
to  undertake  all  that  his  uncle  would 
require  of  him. 

There  were  two  persons  to  whom  they 
decided  at  length  to  refer  these  perplex- 
ities. One  was  Uncle  Jack,  whose  opin- 
ion we  have  already  heard  ;  the  Other 
was  Mr.  Griffiths,  Mark's  most  kind 
friend  and  guide,  the  teacher  of  a  Bible- 
class  to  which  he  belonged.  For  the 
last  two  j'ears  he  had  taken  a  deep 
interest  in  the  fatherless  boy ;  and  Mark 
felt  that,  besides  being  indebted  to  him 
for  his  impressions  of  religious  truth 


rk  St««dn»n. 


18  MARK   STEADMAN. 

and  the  practical  way  in  which  he  had 
brought  them  to  his  mind,  he  also  owed 
him  much  as  having  awakened  in  him  an 
interest  in  many  important  subjects  of 
which  he  would  otherwise  have  been 
wholly  ignorant.  There  was  perhaps 
no  one  who  knew  so  well  what  Mark 
was,  and  of  what  he  was  capable,  as  Mr. 
Griffiths,  and  this  Mark  himself  felt ;  so 
that  he  was  one  of  the  first  persons  to 
be  consulted  as  to  the  proposal  contained 
in  Mr.  Watson's  letter.  After  talking 
it  over  with  him,  Mark  seemed  to  see 
his  way  more  clearly  before  him,  and  in 
accordance  with  his  advice,  had  fully 
determined  to  accept  Mr.  Watson's  offer, 
and  to  go  to  Bristol  at  once. 

Mrs.  Steadman,  however,  could  not 
feel  entirely  satisfied  with  Mark's  decis- 
ion until  she  had  taken  counsel,  as  we 
have  seen,  with  "Uncle  Jack,"  her 
brother  and  only  surviving  relative ; ' 


MAKE    AT   HOME.  19 

but  lie  is  far  too  important  a  character 
to  be  introduced  at  the  end  of  a  chapter. 
If  the  space  occupied  by  each  individual 
were  regulated  according  to  his  merits, 
then  many  a  great  person  would  have 
to  move  out  of  the  way  in  order  to  make 
room  for  Captain  Jack. 


20  MARK    STEADMAN. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CAPTAIN    JACK. 

JOHN  MASTERS — or,  as  he  was  com- 
monly called,  Captain  Jack,  was  born 
and  "rared,"  to  use  his  own  expression, 
in  Yarmouth,  Isle  of  Wight.  His  father 
had  been  the  captain  of  a  small  mer- 
chant-vessel, and  as  his  children  grew 
up,  the  boys,  one  after  another,  had 
taken  to  the  sea  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Of  the  once  numerous  family,  Mrs.  Stead- 
man  and  himself  were  now  the  sole  sur- 
vivors. 

While  he  had  still  pursued  a  seafar- 
ing life,  his  sister's  house  had  always 
been  his  home  when  in  port ;  but,  a  few 
years  before,  he  had  received  such  se- 
vere injuries  in  a  fall  from  the  rigging, 
that  he  could  now  walk  but  with  diffi- 


CAPTAIN   JACK.  21 

culty,  and  only  a  short  distance  at  a 
time.  His  present  abode  was  a  small 
house  on  the  pier,  where  he  lived  quite 
alone,  fulfilling  the  office  of  ball-keeper, 
that  is,  he  had  the  charge  of  the  large 
black  canvas-ball,  which,  as  soon  as  the 
tide  was  high  enough  for  any  vessel  to 
enter  the  harbor,  had  to  be  hauled  to 
the  top  of  a  mast  at  the  pier-head ;  and 
then  when  the  tide  again  went  down  too 
low,  down  also  must  come  the  ball.  At 
night  a  lighted  lantern  took  its  place. 
Morning,  noon,  arid  night,  and  in  all 
weathers,  Captain  Jack  was  at  his  post ; 
and  often  he  might  be  seen  standing  at 
the  foot  of  the  mast,  with  his  great  sil- 
ver watch  in  one  hand,  and  the  tide- 
table  in  the  other,  waiting  for  the  pre- 
cise moment  to  hoist  the  ball. 

Partly,  we  suppose,  because  he  had 
been  used  to  a  ship  all  his  life,  or  pos- 
sibly as  a  sort  of  mark  of  affection,  Cap- 


22  MARK   STEADMAN. 

tain  Jack  always  spoke  of  this  ball  as 
"she;"  and  often  he  would  begin  talk- 
ing of  it  to  a  stranger,  without  any  far- 
ther introduction  or  explanation  than 
this,  so  that  many  persons  imagined  he 
was  speaking  of  a  wife  or  child.  He 
had  neither  of  these,  however,  which 
may  account  for  the  way  in  which  he 
spoke  of  the  ball ;  but  he  lived,  as  we 
have  said,  in  this  little  house  on  the 
pier,  all  alone,  doing  every  thing  for 
himself  in  his  handy  sailor  fashion. 
During  the  greater  part  of  the  clay  he 
might  be  seen  leaning  his  elbows  on  the 
sea-wall,  looking  out  over  the  sea,  hum- 
ming to  himself  an  old  psalm-tune ; 
every  now  and  then  he  would  enter 
into  a  discussion  with  some  ancient  com- 
rade, as  to  what  the  weather  was  going 
to  do  next ;  breaking  it  off,  perhaps,  in 
the  middle  by  taking  out  his  watch,  and 
saying,  "She  '11  be  about  looking  out  for 


CAPTAIN  JACK.  23 

me  now,  I  expect;"  or,  "There,  have  it 
your  own  way :  I  can't  keep  her  waiting 
while  we  settle  it." 

Of^all  the  days  in  the  week,  Sunday 
was  Captain  Jack's  busiest ;  for  on  that 
day  only  did  he  attempt  to  walk  into 
the  town,  setting  off  early,  in  order  to 
reach  the  place  of  worship  where  he 
always  attended,  in  good  time.  Then 
it  often  happened  that  in  the  middle  of 
the  service  the  hour  would  arrive  for 
hauling  down  or  hoisting  up  the  ball; 
and  after  a  little  disturbance  in  Captain 
Jack's  pew,  he  would  pull  out  his  glazed 
hat  from  under  the  seat,  and  march 
forth  ;  always  returning,  however,  if  the 
service  were  not  quite  over,  when  he 
had  done  his  work. 

It  was  a  trying  thing  for  the  good 
captain  if  this  interruption  should  chance 
to  occur  during  the  singing,  which  was 
a  part  of  the  service  in  which  he  took 


24  MARK    STEADMAN. 

especial  delight.  He  joined  in  it  with 
both  heart  and  voice,  standing  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  his  large  hymn-book,  held 
at  arm's  length,  and  quite  lost  to  gvery 
thing  else  in  his  thorough  and  hearty 
participation  in  the  sentiments  of  the 
hymn.  The  performance,  it  is  true,  did 
not  always  give  so  much  satisfaction  to 
those  around  him  as  it  did  to  himself; 
for  if  it  happened  that  the  hymn  ex- 
pressed any  particular  truth  or  senti- 
ment with  which  he  felt  peculiar  sym- 
pathy, he  would  dwell  on  the  words, 
utterly  regardless  of  the  "time  "  at  which 
the  rest  of  the  congregation  were  sing- 
ing ;  so  that  they  did  not  so  much  re- 
gret when,  as  it  sometimes  occurred  in 
the  midst  of  a  favorite  hymn,  he  would 
glance  at  the  clock,  then  suddenly  slam 
together  the  covers  of  his  hymn-book, 
get  out  his  hat,  and  go  forth  to  his  duty. 
As  soon  as  the  captain  had  eaten  his 


CAPTAIN   JACK.  25 

Sunday  dinner,  he  would  take  a  stroll 
on  the  pier,  and  entering  into  conver- 
sation with  the  sailors  lounging  about 
there,  he  would  endeavor  to  persuade 
some  of  them  to  come  with  him  to  the 
service  on  board  the  Bethel  ship  •  and  a 
happy  man  was  'Captain  Jack,  as  he 
hobbled  along,  followed  by  three  or  four 
young  fellows  whom  he  had  induced  to 
accompany  him  where  they  might  hear 
the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  and  victory 
over  sin.  If  he  happened  to  meet  any 
good  man  of  his  acquaintance  on  the 
way,  he  would  telegraph  to  him  his  suc- 
cess and  his  gratification  at  it,  by  a 
beaming  smile,  a  knowing  twitch  of  his 
eyebrow,  and  a  jerk  of  his  shoulder  in 
the  direction  of  his  comrades. 

But  we  must  pay  a  visit  to  Captain 
Jack  in  his  own  home.  It-  is  another 
warm  evening ;  the  tide  is  coming  in, 
and  the  great  ships  come  floating  into 


26  MAKK   STEADMAN. 

the  harbor.  The  black  ball  has  just 
been  hoisted  to  the  top  of  the  mast,  so 
that  the  captain,  without  anxiety  or  fear 
of  disturbance,  can  devote  himself  to 
the  preparation  of  a  nice  little  tea,  which 
he  is  getting  ready  in  order  to  do  honor 
to  the  farewell  visit  ofliis  nephew,  Mark 
Steadman.  On  the  hob  of  the  little  grate 
stands  the  black  teapot,  set  to  draw ; 
while  on  the  fender  is  placed  a  plate  of 
toast,  well  soaked  in  salt  butter.  Before 
the  fire  stands  Captain  Jack  himself, 
carefully  watching  the  grilling  of  a  mack- 
erel on  the  gridiron  over  the  coals ; 
every  now  and  then,  however,  taking 
his  eyes  off  the  fish  to  glance  at  the 
large  hymn-book  set  upon  the  mantel- 
shelf, from  which  he  is  singing  one  of 
his  favorite  hymns : 

"  Through  all  the  changing  scenes  of  life, 

In  trouble  and  in  joy, 
The  praises  of  my  God  shall  still 
My  heart  and  tongue  employ. 


CAPTAIN   JACK.  27 

"Of  his  deliverance  I  will  boast, 

Till  all  who  are  distressed, 
From  my  example  comfort  take, 
And  charm  their  griefs  to  rest. 

"•Oh,  make  but  trial  of  his  love, 

Experience  will  decide 
How  blest  are  they,  and  only  they, 
Who  in  his  truth  confide. 

"Fear  him,  ye  saints,  and  you  will  then 

Have  nothing  else  to  fear  : 
Make  you  his  service  your  delight, 
Your  wants  shall  be  his  care." 

Just  as  the  captain  was  singing  this 
last  verse,  Mark  came  in ;  and  then  the 
teapot,  the  toast,  and  the  mackerel  were 
all  put  upon  the  table,  and  they  both 
sat  down  to  their  meal.  When  Mark 
had  eaten  as  much  as  he  could  and 
should,  though  not  so  much  as  his  uncle 
would  have  had  him  take,  Captain  Jack 
put  away  the  cups  and  plates,  and  then 
sat  himself  down  in  a  large  wooden 
chair,  close  by  the  little  window  which 
looked  across  the  pier  into  the  harbor. 


28  MAEK   STEADilAN. 

After  a  few  remarks  and  criticisms  on 
the  different  kinds  of  "craft"'  that  were 
coming  in,  the  captain  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, "I  say,  Mark,  what's  that  big 
parcel  down  under  your  chair  ?" 

Mark  looked  down,  and  saw  under  his 
chair  a  brown  paper  parcel.  "I  don't 
know,  uncle,"  said  he,  taking  it  up.  "I 
did  n't  see  it  there  just  now." 

"It's  no  property  of  mine,"  said  the 
captain,  laughing  and  rubbing  his  hands, 
"I  know  that;  and  as  finding's  keep- 
ing, why,  you'd  better  keep  it,  Mark." 

Mark  turned  the  parcel  round,  but 
there  was  no  address  upon  it;  and  it 
was  tied  up  so  skilfully,  with  so  many 
knots,  that  it  was  impossible  to  discover 
what  were  its  contents  without  opening 
it. 

"Open  it, lad,"  said  his  uncle.  "There 
is  no  direction  ;  let  us  see  if  it  is  for  any 
of  us." 


CAPTAIN   JACK.  29 

Mark  opened  the  parcel,  and  in  it 
found  a  handsome  Bible,  a  hymn-book 
like  the  one  the  captain  always  used, 
and  four  shillings.  Inside  the  Bible  was 
written — 

' '  MARK  STEADJIAN.  " 

"Holy  Bible,  book  divine ; 
Precious  treasure — it  is  thine." 

and  in  the  hymn-book  Mark  also  found 
his  own  name,  with  the  words — • 

' '  For  this  our  truest  interest  is, 

Glad  hymns  of  praise  to  sing, 
And  with  loud  songs  to  bless  his  name, 
A  most  delightful  thing. " 

"Thank  you,  uncle,'''  exclaimed  Mark, 
when  he  had  looked  at  the  books.  "It 
is  very  kind  indeed  to  get  me  these." 

"But  I've  never  said  as  'twas  I  put 
them  there,"  replied  the  captain.  "You'd 
better  keep  your  thanks  till  you  know 
where  they  came  from.  Anyways  you're 
the  owner,  it  seems ;  and  I  think,  my 


80  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

boy,  the  person  who  gave  them  to  yon 
hopes  arid  trusts  you  '11  make  a  good  use 
of  them.  I  am  sure  I  may  say  that,  let 
it  be  who  it  may." 

"  I  hope  I  shall,"  replied  Mark  quiet- 

iy- 

"I've  no  doubt,"  said  Captain  Jack, 
"  that  your  mother  has  said  to  you  every 
thing,  almost,  that  can  be  said  in  the 
way  of  good  advice  and  counsel ;  for 
she  's  a  good"  woman,  Mark,  and  a  wise 
one  too,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said 
of  most  of  them — but  that  's  neither  here 
nor  there.  However,  what  I  was  going 
to  say  is  this,  my  boy :  your  mother 
don't,  perhaps,  rightly  know  how  hard 
you  '11  find  it  to  keep  to  the  good  way, 
when  every  thing 's  dead  against  you. 
It 's  one  thing  sculling  about  here  in  the 
harbor,  in  the  smooth  water ;  but  it 's 
no  more  like  making  way  against  wind 
and  tide,  than  running  down  hill  is  like 


CAPTAIN   JACK.  31 

climbing  those  rocks.  I  know  3*011  wish 
to  be  a  good  lad,  Mark :  and  I  do  hope 
you  have  reall}"  made  up  your  mind  to 
be  on  the  Lord's  side,  and  to  sail  under 
the  great  Captain's  orders ;  but  there  's 
just  one  thing  I  'd  like  to  say  to  you, 
now  you  're  going  to  leave  port  for  the 
first  time,  and  that  is — show  your  colors. 
Wherever  you  go,  do  n't  be  ashamed  of 
them.  Cany  your  colors  flying,  so  that 
all  you  meet  may  see  at  once  who  and 
what  you  are.  If  you  stick  up  the  ene- 
my's colors,  just  to  avoid  a  bit  of  a 
tussle  at  first,  you  '11  be  in  for  it  soon ; 
for  they  won't  let  you  haul  them  down 
again,  and  it'll  go  hard  but  you'll  be 
sailing  in  his  service  afore  long.  I  know 
what  it  is  myself;  and  I  always  found, 
if  I  let  folks  know  pretty  soon  what  I 
was,  or,  at  least,  wished  to  be,  I  might 
get  a  fe$~  hard  names  to  begin  with  ; 
but,  after  a  bit,  they  'd  let  me  alone, 


82  MARK   STEADMAN. 

excepting  as  they  kept  a  sharp  lookout 
to  see  me  fall ;  which,  you  see,  is  a  good 
thing  in  its  way,  too.  because  it  makes 
you  keep  a  good  lookout  ahead  your- 
self, and  mind  where  you  're  going,  and 
follow  your  chart.  I  've  seen  many  a 
young  chap,  when  first  he  came  aboard, 
who  didn't  half  like  what  he  saw  and 
heard  ;  but  instead  of  speaking  out,  he'd 
make  some  other  excuse  as  it  were,  to 
get  out  of  it  for  awhile;  but  after  a  bit, 
he  'd  be  sure  to  be  drawn  into  it ;  for 
'tis  by  the  Lord's  power  we  stand,  and 
I  don't  see  how  we  can  go  to  ask  him 
for  his  help  when  we  are  denying  him, 
and  making  believe  we  've  got  nothing 
to  do  with  him.  Tis  half  the  battle,  I 
do  assure  you,  to  show  your  colors  at 
once."  It  isn't  much  I  can  say  to  yon, 
my  boy,  for  I  never  was  a  great  talker 
myself — more  's  the  pity,  for*  I  might 
have  done  more  good,  may-be  ;  so  you'll 


CAPTAIN   JACK.  33 

just  mind  this  now,  Mark,  from  Uncle 
Jack,  wo  n't  you  ?" 

"I  will  try,  uncle,"  replied  Mark. 

"And  now,"  said  the  captain,  "I've 
been  turning  over  in  my  mind,  most  all 
day,  what  we  could  do  to  make  an  even- 
ing of  it ;  for,  you  see,  I  never  was  the 
good  company  that  some  are.  But,  if 
you  like  it,  AVC  '11  sing  a  hymn,  and  then 
I  '11  tell  you  the  story  of  my  brother 
Ben.  Perhaps  you  may  n't  have  heard 
it,  for  your  mother  was  such  a  little  lass 
then." 

"No,"  replied  Mark;  "I  don't  think 
I  ever  heard  his  name  before." 

"It's  a  long  yarn,"  said  Captain  Jack, 
"but  you  ought  to  hear  it;  so,  when 
we  've  sung  this  hymn— 

"  'Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross, 
A  follower  of  the  Lamb  ?' 

I  '11  tell  you  the  story  of  poor  Ben." 


34:  MARK    STEADMAN. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CAPTAIN    JACK'S    £>TORY. 

"LET  me  see,"  began  the  captain, 
counting  on  his  fingers;  "two  tens  is 
twenty,  and  twelve  is  thirty-two,  and 
eight  more  is  forty;  isn't  it?  Well,  it 
might  be  forty  years  ago,  when  one 
afternoon  my  brother  Ben  and  I  were 
down  on  the  beach  by  Yarmouth,  Isle  of 
Wight,  which,  as  you  know,  was  where 
we  were  born  and  brought  up.  I've 
seen  a  good  many  places  here  and  there, 
great  cities  and  fine  streets,  and  grand 
houses,  and  coral  reefs,  and  palm-trees ; 
but  just  put  me  on  the  cliff  above  where 
the  forts  are  now  built,  with  a  fine  breeze 
down  the  Channel,  and  the  tide  on  the 
turn,  and  to  my  mind  there  ;s  no  finer 
sight  in  the  whole  world  than  to  stand 


CAPTAIN  JACK'S  STOBY.       35 

there  and  watch  the  great  ships  coming 
down  from  Southampton,  with  all  their 
sails  up  and  flags  flying.  But,  however, 
that 's  neither  here  nor  there — as  I  was 
a-saying,  it's  forty  years  ago  that  I  stood 
there  with  my  brother  Ben,  when  all  at 
once  he  said,  'Let's  go  across  and  see 
how  Joe  is  ;'  for,  you  see,  Joe  was  work- 
ing in  the  ship-building  line  at  Lyming- 
ton. 

"There  was  nothing  I  liked  so  well 
as  to  go  about  anywhere  with  Ben,  for 
I  was  a  little  fellow,  just  twelve,  and 
he  was  rising  eighteen,  and  as  tall  and 
strong  as  ever  I  've  seen  any  one  since. 
He  was  just  come  back  from  his  second 
voyage,  and  was  looking  out  for  another 
berth,  and  I  'd  been  promised  to  go  with 
him  next  time.  I  've  often  heard  moth- 
er say  that  no  woman  had  more  need  to 
thank  God  than  she,  for  such  a  good 
son  as  Ben  was. 


36  MARK   STEADMAX. 

"  Well,  we  went  over  to  Lymington 
that  afternoon,  and  we  found  Joe  at 
work  on  a  very  fine  yacht ;  so,  after 
talking  over  this  and  that,  he  tells  Ben 
about  a  gentleman,  a  Lord  C-  — ,  who 
was  clown  there  looking  out  for  a  crew 
for  this  yacht.  '  It 's  only  a  three  months' 
cruise  in  the  Mediterranean,'  says  Joe; 
'the  pay  is  first-rate,  and  you  '11  be  sure 
to  get  a  handsome  present  at  the  end 
of  the  voyage  besides.  I'd  go,  by  all 
means,  if  I  was  you ;  he  wants  another 
man  and  a  boy,  and  that  will  just  do 
for  you  and  Jack.'  I  remember  Ben 
made  some  objections  at  first,  because 
he  didn't  much  like  these  fancy  things; 
but  after  a  bit  Joe  talked  him  round, 
and  I  did  my  best,  too,  for  I  was  mad 
to  go ;  so  the  end  of  it  was  that  we  went 
up  to  the  hotel  in  Lymington,  where 
Lord  C—  -  was  staying,  and  he  engaged 
us  both  at  once  I  can  see  Lord  C— — 


CAPTAIN  JACK'S  STORY.  37 

now,  as  if  it  was  only  yesterday,  as  he 
was  standing  at  the  inn  door  with  an- 
other gentleman,  who  I  knew  afterwards 
was  Mr.  Darlington.  He  was  a  tall, 
light-haired  young  man,  almost  as  fair 
as  a  woman,  and  he  had  on  a  blue  coat 
with  bright  buttons,  and  his  collar  turned 
off  from  his  neck,  as  I  ?ve  seen  some 
young  gentlemen  wear  it  in  these  days. 
I  ?d  heard  plenty  of  bad  language  before 
then  among  the  sailors  down  on  the  pier, 
but  I  never  heard  any  body  in  all  my 
life  swear  so  awful  as  this  young  gen- 
tleman. I  could  see  Ben  was  n't  very 
well  pleased  with  his  bargain,  though 
he  didn't  say  much  to  me  about  it  as 
we  went  back.  The  night  before  we 
left,  as  mother  was  packing  our  chest, 
she  put  in  a  new  Bible,  in  which  she 
wrote  my  name ;  and  then  she  said, 
'  There  's  only  one  thing  I  want  to  ask 
of  you,  Jack,  and  that  is,  that  you  won't 


38  MARK   STEADMAN. 

forget  to  pray  to  God  every  night  and 
morning,  nor  to  read  your  Bible  when- 
ever you  can.  Ben  gave  me  this  prom- 
ise when  he  went  out  on  his  first  voy- 
age, and  I  don't  believe  he's  ever  broke 
it,' 

"  The  next  morning  early  we  went 
over  to  Lymington,  and  got  on  board 
the  yacht,  where  we  found  every  thing 
ready  to  sail.  AVe  were  out,  as  I  re- 
member, by  the  afternoon  tide,  and  be- 
fore night  were  going  down  the  Channel 
with  a  stiff  breeze.  For  the  first  few 
days,  you  may  fancy,  I  didn't  know 
much  about  what  was  going  on  in  the 
yacht,  for  I  was  very  sick,  and  wished 
myself  home  again  with  mother  a  hun- 
dred times.  Ben  came  sometimes  to  see 
how  I  was  getting  on,  but  he  always 
laughed  at  me,  and  said  I  should  be  all 
right  after  a  bit,  When  we  had  got  past 
the  Bay  of  Biscay,  I  began  to  find  my 


CAPTAIN  JACK'S  STORY.  39 

sea-legs,  and  to  run  about  as  usual,  and 
then  I  found  what  a  bad  lot  we  'd  got 
among ;  and  the  gentlemen,  I  must  say, 
beat  the  men,  for  the}^  seemed  to  take  a 
downright  delight  in  mocking  at  every 
thing  good.  From  that  time  to  this  I 
have  never  been  in  such  a  crew  as  that 
was.  I  noticed  pretty  soon  that,  some- 
how or  other,  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
ill-wind  against  Ben ;  there  was  n't  one 
of  the  men  that  had  a  civil  word  for 
him,  and  I  knew  it  was  because  he 
wouldn't  join  them  in  their  evil  ways; 
but  as  he  never  spoke  about  it  to  me,  I 
said  nothing  to  him. 

"The  second  Sunday  we  were  on 
board  I  shall  never  forget.  I  was  too 
sick  the  first  Sunday  to  do  any  thing 
more  than  I  was  forced  to  do,  but  this 
day  was  quiet  enough,  and  we  were 
making  way  slowly  down  the  Mediter- 
ranean. After  dinner,  Ben  said  to  me, 


40  MAUK    STEADMAN. 

'Come,  Jack,  we've  had  no  service  to- 
day j  let  us  read  a  bit  out  of  the  good 
book.'  So  I  went  and  fetched  my  new 
Bible  out  of  the  chest,  and  we  got  into 
as  quiet  a  corner  as  we  could,  and  be- 
gan to  read.  For  some  time  no  one 
took  notice  of  us,  and -we  talked  about 
what  we  were  reading,  which  I  remem- 
ber was  the  history  of  Daniel  being  put 
into  the  den  of  lions  because  he  would 
not  leave  off  praying  to  God.  At  last 
one  of  the  men  came  up  and  asked  us 
what  we  were  after  there. 

"'Reading  the  Bible,'  said  Ben,  as 
quiet  as  possible.  Thereupon  the  man 
broke  out,  calling  us  all  manner  of 
names,  and  what  was  worse,  saying  all 
kinds  of  dreadful  things  about  the  word 
of  God  itself.  I  remember  so  well  how 
I  crept  behind  Ben  and  watched  the 
man,  expecting  every  moment  that  God 
would  strike  him  dead  for  talking  as  he 


CAPTAIN  JACK'S  STORY.  41 

did  about  the  Bible ;  but,  you  see,  I 
did  n't  know  then  all  the  mercy  and  for- 
bearance of  the  Lord  in  sparing  sinners, 
nor  that  the  blessed  Saviour  was  willing 
to  receive  even  such  as  he.  After  a 
bit,  one  or  two  more  of  the  crew  came 
up,  and  they  wanted  to  get  the  book 
from  Ben  to  look  at  it,  as  they  said ; 
but  he  knew  it  was  only  for  their  wicked 
fun ;  so  Ben  put  thp  book  into  the  front 
of  his  shirt,  and  folding  his  arms,  said 
he  would  give  it  to  no  one,  for  it  was 
God's  book;  but  if  they  really  wished 
to  know  what  was  in  it,  and  had  a  mind 
to  listen,  he  would  read  to  them  out  of 
it.  At  this  they  only  laughed,  and  just 
at  that  moment  the  mate  seeing  Lord 
C-  -  and  Mr.  Darlington  coming  up 
the  cabin  stairs  on  deck,  he  made  off 
and  told  them  what  was  going  on. 

"Mr.  Darlington  laughed,  and  said  it 
was  highly  diverting ;  but  Lord  C— 


42  MAKK   STEADMAN. 

was  furious,  and  swore  lie  'd  have  the 
book  and  throw  it  overboard,  for  he  'd 
have  no  such  sneaking,  mcthodistical 
nonsense  on  board  his  vessel.  At  that 
two  or  three  of  the  men  would  have  laid 
hands  on  Ben  to  force  the  book  from 
him  ;  but  Mr.  Darlington,  laughing  all 
the  while,  says,  'Come,  my  lord,  we  can- 
not expect  to  find  enlightened  views 
among  sailors ;  you  and  I  are  above  this 
folly,  but  we  must  allow  a  certain  amount 
of  superstition  to  the  ignorant.  The  fel- 
low will  only  think  himself  a  blessed 
martyr  if  you  allow  this  to  proceed  any 
farther ;  besides,  according  to  the  rights 
of  man,  it  is  his  property,  and  he  is  jus- 
tified in  defending  it.'  So  Mr.  Darling- 
ton put  his  hand  into  Lord  C—  — 's  arm, 
and  they  walked  towards  the  other  end 
of  the  vessel,  my  lord  vowing  all  the 
while  that  lie  would  get  rid  of  us  as 
soon  as  he  got  to  Naples,  for  he  'd  have 


CAPTAIN  JACK'S  STORY.  43 

no  such  mean  cowardly  fellows  on  board 
the  yacht.  Bnt  he  did  n't  think  what 
was  going  to  happen  when  he  called 
Ben  a  coward. 

"It  wasn't  very  smooth  sailing  for 
Ben  and  me  after  this,  as  you  "might 
suppose,  but  it  would  .take  too  long  to 
tell  all  that  the  men  would  do  to  vex 
and  plague  us ;  and  Lord  C-  — ,  I  must 
say.  was  always  ready  to  set  them  on. 
It 's  a  wonder  to  me  now,  when  I  think 
of  the  grace  and  help  the  Lord  must 
have  given  us,  to  keep  us  as  he  did. 
For  my  part,  I  could  only  ask  every 
hour  almost  when  we  should  get  to  Na- 
ples ;  and  then  Ben  would  talk  to  me 
and  remind  me  of  the  patience  of  our 
blessed  Lord,  and  how  he  put  up  with 
worse  things  from  wicked  men  when  he 
was  on  earth ;  and  all  this  he  bore,  too, 
for  our  sakes,  and  instead  of  the  punish- 
ment we  deserved  for  our  sins,  so  that 


44  MARK   STEADMAN. 

it  was  hard  if  we  could  n't  bear  a  little 
for  him.  'And  don't  you  remember, 
too,'  said  Ben,  'the  stories  of  the  mar- 
tyrs in  mother's  book  at  home,  how  they 
all  their  lives  had  to  put  up  with  what 
we  have  to  endure  only  for  a  little  time. 
Cheer  up,  Jack,  it  will  soon  be  over ;  if 
all  this  brings  us  to  love  and  trust  the 
Saviour  more,  we  shall  bless  Grod  for  it 
some  day.' 

"It  was  one  evening  that  we  came  in 
sight  of  the  coast  of  Italy,  and  the  next 
morning  we  were  to  land  in  Naples.  I 
went  down  to  my  berth  pleased  enough 
to  think  that  it  was  our  last  night  aboard 
this  yacht ;  but  I  had  irt  been  asleep 
more  than  an  hour  or  so,  when  I  woke 
up  all  of  a  sudden,  hearing  a  great  run- 
ning to  and  fro  on  the  deck,  and  cries 
of  Fire !  In  a  moment  I  was  dressed  and 
on  the  deck,  where  the  men  were  already 
getting  the  boat  down.  I  saw  the  flames 


CAPTAIN  JACK'S  STOBY.       45 

breaking  ou^  in  several  places,  and  every 
body  was  getting  into  the  boat  as  quick 
as  possible.  It  was  Ben's  watch  that 
night,  and  the  moment  he  saw  me  come 
tip,  he  took  hold  of  me  to  put  me  into 
the  boat.  Mr.  Darlington,  I  remember, 
was  the  first  to  leave  the  ship,  and  we 
were  the  last.  I  was  just  getting  down, 
with  Ben  behind  me,  when  all  of  a  sud- 
den one  of  the  men  in  the  boat  called 

out,  'Where  is  Lord  C ?  Has  any 

one  seen  him  ? ' 

'"It's  of  no  use  to  wait,7  said  Mr. 
Darlington;  'some  of  you  ought  to  have 
thought  of  him  before.  He  was  drink- 
ing all  last  evening,  and  he  will  never 
be  able  to  leave  his  cabin.  Pull  off, 
and  let  us  save  ourselves  if  we  can.' 

"'One  moment,'  cried  Ben,  and  he 
sprung  back  into  the  yacht.  In  another 
minute  he  was  at  the  side  of  the  ship 
again,  with  Lord  C— —  in  his  arms.  My 


46  MARK   STEADMAN. 

lord  was  so  drunk  he  couldn't  stand, 
and  did  n't  seem  to  know  where  he  was. 
He  was  lowered  into  the  boat  by  Ben, 
and  the  men  had  hardly  got  hold  of  him, 
when  the  plank,  or  something  that  Ben 
stood  on,  gave  way.  He  staggered  and 
caught  at  a  rope  hanging  there,  but  he 
missed  it,  and  then  fell  back  into  the 
burning  vessel. 

"'Pull  for  your  lives!'  shouted  Mr. 
Darlington,  'the  yacht's  going  down.' 

"I  remember  I  tried  to  jump  into  the 
water,  but  some  one  held  me  back,  and 
I  don't  know  rightly  what  happened 
afterwards,  till  I  found  the  sun  was 
shining,  and  we  were  landing  at  the 
quay  of  Naples. 

"When  Lord  C —  -  came  to  himself, 
he  was  terribly  cut  up  about  what  had 
happened.  He  wanted  me  to  stay  with 
him  still,  but  I  could  think  of  nothing 
but  getting  home  as  quick  as  I  could ; 


CAPTAIN   JACK'S    STORY.  47 

so  then  he  took  a  passage  for  me  on 
board  a  vessel  that  was  leaving  for  Eng- 
land. He  sent  my  mother  a  present  of 
fifty  pounds,  and  when  I  went  to  the 
hotel  to  thank  him,  he  said  to  me  as  I 
was  going  off,  'Stick  to  your  colors,  boy ; 
there  must  be  something  in  religion  when 
it  makes  a  man  so  brave  and  good  as 
your  poor  brother.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
I  feel  when  I  think  what  it  would  have 
been  for  me,  if  I  had  gone  down  instead 
of  him.  As  for  him,  I  am  sure,  if  there 
is  a  heaven,  he  is  there;  and  for  me,  I 
can  only  hope  I  may  be  able  to  make  a 
better  use  of  the  life  he  has  saved  at 
the  cost  of  his  own.' 

"And  now,  I  am  sure,  I  needn't  tell 
you,  Mark,  that  I  have  never  forgot  my 
first  voyage,"  concluded  Captain  Jack. 

"Of  Lord  C I  have  never  heard 

since,  nor  whether  he  really  led  a  dif- 
ferent life ;  but  my  poor  brother's  death, 


48  MARK   STEADMAN. 

and  especially  his  good  example  on 
board  the  yacht,  and  the  way  he  used 
to  talk  to  me,  so  laid  hold  of  my  mind, 
that  I  could  have  no  peace  until  I  had 
learned  to  love  and  trust  the  same  Sav- 
iour, and  determined  to  spend  my  life 
in  his  service ;  and  may  God  bless  you, 
my  dear  boy,  and  lead  and  keep  you  in 
the  same  way.  Now  we  ?H  sing,  if  you 
like,  the  hymn,  'Give  me  the  wings  of 
faith  to  rise;  'Old  Wmchester'  tune.'' 

So  Mark  and  his  uncle  sang  together 
those  beautiful  words,  beginning, 

"Give  rue  the  wings  of  faith  to  rise 

Within  the  veil,  and  see 
The  saints  above,  how  great  their  joys, 
How  bright  their  glories  be. " 

And  then  Mark  wished  his  uncle  good 
evening,  and  returned  home. 


LEAVING   HOME.  49 


CHAPTER   IV. 

LEAVING    HOME. 

PUNCTUALLY  at  eleven  o'clock  the 
next  morning,  Mark  might  have  been 
seen  on  the  deck  of  the  steamer  which 
was  to  convey  him  to  Bristol.  The  last 
good-bys  at  home  had  been  said,  and 
now  his  mother  and  one  of  his  sisters 
stood  waving  their  handkerchiefs  to  him 
from  the  shore,  when  the  bell  rang,  the 
paddle-wheels  began  to  splash  the  wa- 
ter, the  plank  was  taken  up,  and  the 
vessel  was  steaming  her  way  out  of  the 
harbor.  At  the  pier-head  stood  Cap- 
tain Jack,  with  one  arm  round  the  mast 
on  which  the  ball  was  hoisted,  while 
with  the  other  he  waved  his  glazed  hat, 
and  shouted,  "  God  bless  you,  my  boy  ! 


60  MARK   STEADMAN. 

Cheer  up,  my  hearty !"  as  the  steamer 
passed  below. 

The  day  was  perfectly  calm,  and  the 
blue  summer  sea  had  scarcely  a  ripple 
upon  it  excepting  where  the  vessel  divi- 
ded its  waters ;  so  that  Mark  experi- 
enced none  of  the  uncomfortable  sensa- 
tions common  to  young  sailors,  but  stood 
for  some  time  at  the  stern  of  the  vessel, 
watching  the  well-known  rocks  and  pier 
as  they  gradually  faded  out  of  sight. 
Then  he  sat  down,  and  began  to  realize 
to  himself  that  he  had  actually  left  his 
home  behind  him,  and  with  it  the  imme- 
diate presence  of  that  affection  which  had 
been  perpetually  around  him  from  his 
infancy.  He  knew  that  whatever  kind 
friends  he  might  meet  with  in  his  new 
life,  he  never  could  be  to  them  all  that 
he  had  been  in  the  eyes  of  those  from 
whom  he  was  now  separated;  and  he 
thought  that  this  separation  would  be  no 


LEAVING   HOME.  51 

mere  temporary  parting,  but  that  it  was 
the  commencement  of  a  final  breaking 
away  from  the  guardianship  and  restraint 
hitherto  exercised  over  him,  as  well  as 
a  removal  from  the  habits  and  influen- 
ces of  his  old  life.  His  course  as  yet 
had  been,  as  Uncle  Jack  expressed  it, 
like  a  little  boat  floating  peacefully  in  a 
safe  harbor  ;  but  now  his  capabilities 
and  powers  of  endurance  were  to  be 
tried  among  the  breakers  and  quick- 
sands in  the  great  ocean  of  the  world. 
Of  the  dangers  to  be  met  with  there 
Mark  knew  very  little ;  but  let  it  be 
remembered,  it  is  not  an  acquaintance 
with  the  wrong  road  which  will  enable 
any  one  to  walk  in  the  right ;  and  though 
Mark  had  very  little  idea  of  the  snares 
lying  before  him,  yet  he  knew  much, 
both  from  instruction  and  from  experi- 
ence, of  the  many  heart-felt  joys  which 
are  ever  springing- up  among  the  rough- 


52  MARK   STEADMAN. 

nesses  of  the  strait  and  narrow  path. 
As  he  thought  of  the  unknown  tempta- 
tions and  trials  which  he  was  now  going 
forth  to  encounter,  he  felt  some  fear,  for 
he  was  aware  of  the  treachery  of  his 
own  nature,  which  would  always  be  for 
yielding  quietly,  rather  than  for  offer- 
ing any  resistance ;  but  he  lifted  up  his 
heart  in  prayer  that  the  Saviour,  who 
knows  the  world  better  than  any  human 
being  can,  who  has  been  in  it  himself, 
and  yet  not  of  it,  would  be  continu- 
ally with  him,  upholding,  guiding,  and 
strengthening  him  every  moment. 

Mark  had,  many  times  before  this,  en- 
deavored to  exercise  that  faith  in  Christ 
which  consists  in  trusting  the  soul  to  his 
care  as  its  Saviour,  but  he  had  hitherto 
only  thought  of  being  saved  at  last  from 
the  future  punishment  merited  by  his 
sins  in  another  world ;  now  he  found 
that  he  needed  a  Saviour  for  his  soul  in 


LEAVING  HOME.  63 

this  life  as  well  as  in  the  hour  of  death ; 
and  that  before  the  time  came  when  this 
final  salvation  should  be  his,  he  had  to 
run  a  race  through  a  road  filled  with 
dangers,  to  fight  a  good  light  with  sur- 
rounding foes,  and  to  hold  fast  the  faith, 
while  a  thousand  subtle  adversaries 
strove  with  superhuman  cunning  to 
pluck  it  from  him. 

Then  he  thought  of  what,  Uncle  Jack 
had  said  about  showing  his  colors,  and 
he  wondered  whether  it  meant  that  he 
was  to  begin  at  once  to  talk  to  other  peo- 
ple of  those  things  which  were  so  pre- 
cious and  interesting  to  him,  but  which 
might  not  be  so  to  them  ;  or  whether  he 
ought  to  wait  till  some  circumstance 
called  on  him  to  make  a  stand  against 
what  was  wrong ;  and  he  decided  that 
this  was  what  Uncle  Jack  intended. 

The  day  appeared  very  long  to  Mark, 
for  there  wrere  few  passengers  on  board, 


54  MAKK    STEADMAN. 

and  none  of  them  seemed  much  disposed 
to  notice  the  solitary  boy.  His  mother 
had  packed  up  for  him  a  basket  of  nice 
things,  with  which  he  might  refresh  him- 
self during  the  voyage  :  and  his  teacher, 
Mr.  Griffiths,  had  given  him  a  new  book  ; 
so  with  the  help  of  these  occupations  for 
body  and  mind,  he  managed  to  pass  the 
time  until  the  evening,  when  they  reach- 
ed the  mouth  of  the  Bristol  river.  The 
usual  wearisome  delay  occurred  here, 
there  not  being  sufficient  water  for  the 
vessel  to  continue  her  way  up  the  stream, 
and  thus  the  shadows  of  the  summer  twi- 
light had  already  fallen  on  the  pictu- 
resque crags  and  wooded  banks,  when 
the  tide  had  risen  high  enough  to  allow 
of  their  proceeding  to  their  destination ; 
and  Mark  therefore  could  see  but  little  of 
those  beauties  which  make  the  scenery 
of  the  Avon  for  a  short  distance  as  charm- 
ing as  any  river  scenery  in  England. 


LEAVING   HOME.  55 

But  at  length  the  long  day's  voyage 
ended,  and  the  passengers,  with  their 
luggage,  were  safely  landed  on  the  quay 
at  the  Hotwells ;  and  Mark  soon  found 
himself  in  an  omnibus,  driving  through 
the  streets  of  Bristol.  It  was  already 
dark  when  the  omnibus  stopped,  after 
many  delays,  before  a  shop  which,  though 
closed  now  for  the  night,  Mark  identi- 
fied as  his  uncle's,  for  the  name  of  "Wat- 
son," in  large  gold  letters,  sparkled  in 
the  gas-light  over  the  door.  He  rang 
the  bell  at  the  side-entrance,  and  he  and 
his  box  were  soon  ushered  into  a  nar- 
row passage,  where  his  first  impulse  was 
to  ask  for  his  uncle  ;  but  before  he  could 
do  this,  a  voice  called  out  over  the  stair- 
case : 

"If  that  is  Mr.  Steadman,  desire  the 
young  gentleman  to  walk  up  stairs  into 
my  sitting-room." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Mark  had 


56  MARK   STEADMAN. 

ever  answered  to  either  of  these  titles ; 
but  still  he  would  have  had  no  hesita- 
tion in  recognizing  them  as  applied  to 
himself,  even  without  the  explanation 
of  the  servant  who  had  opened  the  door : 

"You  are  to  go  up  to  Miss  Finch's 
parlor  directly. ?? 

At  the  top  of  the  staircase  Mark  was 
received  by  a  little  old  lady,  who  made 
him  such  a  profound  courtesy  that  he 
felt  quite,  confused,  and  he  returned  it 
with  a  bow  that  he  was  quite  conscious 
was  not  his  best.  She  then  threw  open 
the  door  of  a  room,  and  waved  her  hand 
for  him  to  enter.  It  was  quite  a  relief 
to  Mark  to  find  that  the  room  was  empty, 
for  he  dreaded  being  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  some  still  more  formidable 
being  than  the  little  old  lady  with  her 
short  flaxen  curls  and  upright  figure. 
After  placing  him  a  chair,  Miss  Finch 
began  in  a  very  deliberate  voice,  as 


LEAVING   HOME.  57 

though  she  studied  each  sentence  as  she 
uttered  it  : 

"  I  hope,  Mr.  Steadinan,  you  have  had 
an  agreeable  journey." 

"Very,"  replied- Mark,  "thank  you." 

"You  reside  in  Wales,  I  believe?" 
said  Miss  Finch. 

"Yes,"  answered  Mark;  "I  have 
lived  there  nearly  all  my  life  till 
now." 

"Allow  me  to  express  the  great  pleas- 
ure that  I  feel  in  welcoming  a  nephew 
of  Mr.  Watson  beneath  this  roof,  and 
the  hope  that  he  may  find  a  happjr  home 
here,"  said  Miss  Finch. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Mark.  "Is 
my  uncle  in  ?" 

"Never  at  this  hour,  Mr.  Steaclman," 
said  Miss  Finch.  "He  leaves  the  busi- 
ness at  six.  He  has,  however,  desired 
me  to  say  to  you  that  he  hopes  to  see 
you  to-morrow." 


68  MARK    STEADMAN. 

"  Does  not  my  uncle  live  here  ?"  asked 
Mark. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Miss  Finch  ; 
"he  resides  in  a  villa  at  Clifton.  He 
was  sorry  that  you  had  not  arrived  be- 
fore his  hour  for  leaving,  and  hoped  that 
you  would  find  every  thing  comfortable 
here.  There  was  something  also,  I  think, 
that  he  wished  me  to  say  to  you.  Yes," 
continued  Miss  Finch,  tapping  her  fore- 
head, "  he  thinks  it  as  well,  in  order  to 
prevent  any  unpleasantness  or  jealousy 
which  might  arise,  that  you  should  not 
be  known  here  as  his  nephew.  He  de- 
sires to  do  all  he  can  for  you,  but  he 
does  not  wish  there  should  be  any  ap- 
parent difference  between  you  and  the 
other  young  men  in  the  house.  I  be- 
lieve this  was  the  substance  of  his  re- 
marks to  me  on  the  subject.  You  will 
of  course,  therefore,  be  good  enough  to 
speak  of  him  always  as  Mr.  Watson, 


LEAVING   HOME.  59 

and  not  to  allude  to  any  ties  of  relation- 
ship." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mark,  "since 
Mr.  Watson  wishes  it ;"  but  at  the  same 
time  he  could  not  resist  a  depressing 
sensation  which  came  over  him  at  the 
idea  that  the  little  consolation  which  he 
had  been  administering  to  himself  in 
parting  from  all  his  former  friends  for 
the  first  time,  by  endeavoring  to  imagine 
that  he  was  going  to  a  relative,  who 
would  therefore  feel  more  than  a  stran- 
ger's interest  or  affection,  was  now  taken 
from  him,  and  that  he  had  to  stand  his 
ground  and  fight  his  own -battles  alone. 

"And  now,  I  believe,"  began  Miss 
Finch,  "our  interview  is  terminated.  I 
can  only  say  besides,  that  if  you  have 
any  complaints  to  make  of  any  thing  in 
the  domestic  arrangements,  I  hope  you 
will  apply  to  me  at  once.  Every  thing 
here  is  in  my  charge,  and  under  my  su- 


60  MARK   STEADMAN. 

perintendence.  Some  of  the  young  men 
are  not  so  gentlemanly  as  I  could  wish  ; 
but  I  am  sure  that  they  will  all  bear 
witness  to  my  pains  and  assiduity  in  the 
discharge  of  my  duties." 

"I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  be  very  hap- 
py here."  murmured  Mark,  as  he  rose 
to  leave. 

"My  position  here  is  very  different 
from  what  it  has  been,  Mr.  Steadman," 
remarked  Miss  Finch,  also  rising.  "Du- 
ring my  dear  sister's  lifetime — one  of 
the  most  amiable  and  accomplished  of 
human  beings — we  had  a  large  and  pros- 
perous establishment  for  young  ladies 
at  Carl  ton  Yilla,  Clifton.  Mr.  Watson 
took  the  house  off  my  hands  ;  and  I  am 
here.  But  '  such  is  life,'  as  some  one,  I 
forget  who,  has  justly  remarked." 

Miss  Finch  then  rang  the  bell,  and 
desired  the  servant  to  show  Mr.  Stead- 
man down  stairs.  "I  always  sup  in 


> 


LEAVING   HOME.  61 

my  own  apartment,"  she  observed,  as 
Mark  again  attempted  a  bow,  which  he 
feared  would  lay  him  also  under  the 
charge  of  "  not  being  so  gentlemanly  as 
Miss  Finch  could  have  wished.'-' 

As  Mark  followed  the  servant  down 
stairs,  sfre  opened  the  door  of  a  small 
parlor  behind  the  shop,  and  Mark  en- 
tering, perceived  two  young  men  sitting 
near  the  gas-light  which  burned  over  the 
mantel-shelf,  reading.  The  younger  of 
them,  who  did  not  look  much  older  than 
Mark,  rose  as  the  door  opened,  and  ad- 
vancing towards  the  new-comer  with  his 
hand  stretched  out  in  a  theatrical  atti- 
tude, exclaimed  : 

"Welcome,  Mr.  Matthew  Steady-man, 
to  the  fruitful  plains  and  wide  domains 
of  Messrs.  Watson  and  Co.  Allow  me 
also  the  pleasure  of  first  introducing  to 
you  my  friend  Mr.  Y erdant — I  mean,  Mr. 
Vincent  Green/'  and  he  waved  his  hand 


G2  MARK   STEADMAN. 

in  the  direction  of  his  companion,  who 
looked  up  from  his  book,  smiled  quietly, 
and  shook  hands  with  Mark,  saying  at 
the  same  time, 

"Pray  let's  have  110  more  nonsense, 
Archer." 

"Now,"  began  the  other  again,  "you 
go  on  with  your  novel.  I  was  about  to 
add  that,  secondly,  I  should  request  the 
privilege  of  calling  the  attention  of  Mr. 
Steady-man  to  the  humble  individual 
who  now  addresses  you.  His  name  is 
Archer — Charlie  Archer,  of  a  very  an- 
cient and  well-known  family.  One  of 
our  ancestors,  as  you  are  no  doubt  aware, 
distinguished  himself  during  the  dark 
ages  by  shooting  at  a  frog  ;  and  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe  that  the  first 
letter  of  the  alphabet — great  A — was 
invented  by  him,  as  the  initial  of  the 
family  name.  So  that  you  see,  in  fact, 
we  may  be  considered  as  the  leaders  in 


LEAVING   HOME.  63 

ks  belles  kttres,  as  well  as  being  highly 
distinguished  for  our  proficiency  in  ks 
beaux  arts." 

Mark  did  not  in  the  least  know  how 
to  reply  to  this  speech.  It  was  a  style 
of  talking  to  which  he  had  been  hitherto 
quite  unaccustomed,  and  he  did  not  un- 
derstand it.  He  saw  Mr.  Green  laugh, 
so  he  laughed  too.  and  drawing  a  chair 
forward,  sat  down  awkwardly  on  the 
edge  of  it,  feeling  quite  abashed  and 
shy. 

Presently  Mr.  Charles  Archer  looked 
at  his  watch,  and  observing  that  it  was 
past  nine,  announced  his  intention  of 
presiding  at  the  supper-table — for  the 
cloth  was  already  laid — without  any 
longer  awaiting  the  return  of  their  "dis- 
tinguished president.7' 

"  You  have  already  been  introduced," 
said  he  to  Mark,  as  he  took  his  seat  at 
the  head  of  the  table,  "to  the  first  and 


Gi  MARK    STEADMAN. 

second  persons  singular,  it  only  remains 
to  make  you  acquainted  with  the  third 
person,  or  the  person  spoken  of,  as  the 
grammar-books  say.  Xow  that  individ- 
ual, allow  me  to  inform  you,  is  no  less  a 
personage  than  the  famous  Alexander 
the  Great,  who,  after  conquering  all  the 
world  for  which  he  sighed,  has  at  length 
condescended  to  take  the  situation  of 
senior  assistant  in  the  woollen-drapery 
business  of  Messrs.  Watson  and  Co., 
and  is  content  to  reign  supreme  over  a 
simple  village  Green,  with  one  humble 
Archer  as  his  body-guard,  and  a  Stead y- 
man  as  general  servant.  He  is  now, 
probably,  engaged  in  settling  some  ques- 
tion of  great  moment  to  the  universe  in 
general,  and  which  accounts  for  his  ab- 
sence on  the  present  occasion." 

"If  you  mean  the  discussion-class," 
said  Mr.  Green,  "I  do  not  think  it  meets 
to-night.  Tuesday  is  their  evening." 


LEAVING   HOME.  Go 

"  But,"  replied  Archer,  "I  have  been 
informed,  on  the  authority  of  the  Great 
Alexander,  the  vice-president,  that  the 
question — one  of  some  importance — oc- 
cupied so  much  time  in  discussion  that 
an  adjourned  meeting  was  fixed  for  this 
evening,  in  order  to  settle  it.  I  pro- 
posed to  him  to  go  and  speak  on  either 
side,  or  on  both  sides  if  he  liked ;  but 
he  has  never  invited  me  again,  since  my 
unfortunate  speech  on  spiritualism." 

At  that  moment  the  hall-door  was 
opened,  and  a  step  heard  in  the  passage. 
Archer  began  whistling,  "See,  the  con- 
quering hero  comes,"  and  presently  Mr. 
Alexander  Cocks  entered  the  room. 

Archer  immediate!}^  vacated  his  seat 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  Mr.  Cocks 
took  his  place.  He  then  spoke  to  Mark, 
and  asked  him  if  he  had  had  a  pleasant 
journey;  after  which  he  turned  to  Ar- 
cher, and  said  : 


66  MAKK    STEAD1IAX. 

"We  beat  them;  I  knew  we  should, 
after  Jones  and  Clark  had  spoken ;  they 
are  both  of  them  uncommonly  clever  fel- 
lows. The  opposition  melted  away  like 
snow ;  and  when  it  came  to  the  vote, 
they  could  only  count  five  hands." 

"What  a  pity  you  were  not  there, 
Steadman,"  said  Archer,  turning  to 
Mark,  "to  have  helped  in  the  learned 
discussion." 

"I  can  assure  you  we  should  really 
have  been  very  glad  to  have  had  you  on 
the  other  side,"  said  Mr.  Cocks.  "It 
would  have  been  more  exciting  if  they 
could  have  put  forward  a  more  decided 
speaker ;  but  the  fact  was,  they  were 
very  weak  indeed.  Did  you  ever  take 
a  part  in  these  meetings  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Mark. 

"Then  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to 
introduce  you  next  Tuesday,"  said  Mr. 
Cocks.  "We  discuss  all  kinds  of  sub- 


LEAVING   HOME.  67 

jects,  and  are  glad  to  hear  every  variety 
of  opinion." 

The  clock  now  struck  ten,  and  at  the 
same  moment  a  step  was  heard  descend- 
ing the  staircase,  and  presently  Miss 
Finch  threw  043011  the  parlor-door. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  she,  looking  round 
and  bowing  to  each,  "  allow  me  to  wish 
you  all  a  very  good  night ;"  and  then 
she  withdrew  again. 

Mark  looked  up  inquiringly  after  this 
little  ceremony  was  over,  and  Archer 
said : 

"She  counts  her  chickens  like  this 
every  night.  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Watson, 
with  a  truly  paternal  anxiety,  has  made 
a  rule  that  we  are  all  to  be  in  at  ten 
o'clock  ;  so,  punctually  as  the  hour 
strikes,  Miss  Finch  descends,  and  first 
counts  us  and  then  the  spoons,  to  see 
that  all  is  right," 


68  MAKE    STEADMAN. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  FIRST  SUNDAY. 

THE  next  day  after  Mark's  arrival  at 
Mr.  Watson's,  he  was  fully  occupied  in 
paying  close  attention  to  the  directions 
given  him  as  to  his  future  work.  The 
business  was,  as  we  have  said,  one  of 
those  long -established,  old-fashioned 
shops,  in  which  a  less  variety  of  goods 
is  sold  than  is  common  at  present  in  most 
linen-drapers',  yet  Mark  found  his  new 
occupations  sufficiently  fatiguing  and 
confusing  during  the  first  day ;  so  that 
it  was  with  a  feeling  of  unusual  relief 
that  he  recollected  that  the  morrow  was 
the  day  of  rest. 

A  Sunday  morning  in  the  street  of  a 
large  town  cannot  be  remarkable  for  that 
calm  beauty  and  serenity  which  is  so 


THE    FIRST    SUNDAY.  69 

often  observable  at  such  seasons  in  the 
country ;  but  although  Mark  could  no 
longer  look  out  towards  the  blue  hills 
across  the  bay,  or  wander  across  the 
green  lanes,  or  on  the  seashore,  as  he 
had  often  clone  on  an  early  Sunday  morn- 
ing in  summer  at  home,  yet  he  could  not 
help  thinking  that  even  the  sky  in  the 
spaces  between  the  roofs  of  the  houses 
opposite  had  a  peculiar  look  of  fresh- 
ness and  peace  which  it  had  not  worn  on 
the  previous  da}r,  and  which  seemed  to 
declare  that  the  week's  toil  was  over,  and 
the  dust  and  soil  of  it  cleansed  away. 

Mark  found  no  one  in  the  parlor  when 
he  went  down,  so  he  fetched  a  book,  and 
placing  himself  by  the  open  window  be- 
gan to  read.  As  the  clock  struck  nine, 
Miss  Finch,  dressed  in  a  brilliant  blue 
silk  and  new  lace  cap,  sailed  into  the 
room,  and  inspired  perhaps  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  her  fine  dress,  her  bow  to 


70  MARK   STEADMAX. 

Mark  was  even  more  dignified  and  im- 
posing than  usual. 

"  I  expect  we  shall  have  a  tete-a-tete 
breakfast,  Mr.  Steadman,"  she  remarked, 
as  with  a  sweep  of  her  dress  she  took 
her  seat  at  the  table. 

Mark  was  not  quite  sure  what  kind  of 
a  breakfast  that  might  be,  so  he  only 
said,  "Do  3^011  think  so?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Miss  Finch  ;  "'False- 
ly luxurious  will  not  man  awake,'  as  the 
poet  says.  I  always  keep  my  place  till 
ten  on  Sunday  mornings — never  later— 
and  after  that  they  must  shift  for  them- 
selves. I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  prac- 
tise early  rising,  Mr.  Steadman." 

"  We  are  always  earlier  than  usual  on 
Sabbath  mornings  at  home,"  said  Murk, 
"  there  is  so  much  to  be  done  to  get  all 
ready  in  time  for  the  service,  arid  then 
almost  the  whole  family  go  to  the  Sun- 
da  v-school." 


THE    FIRST   SUNDAY.  71 

"Indeed!"  answered  Miss  Finch. 
"Oh,  I  suppose  your  friends  are  pious 
people,  Mr.  Steadman." 

Mark  did  not  exactly  know  what  to 
reply  to  this ;  but  he  said  at  last  that  he 
was  sure  his  mdther  was  a  very  good 
woman,  and  she  had  always  tried  to 
bring  up  her  children  in  the  same  way. 

"And  you  call  yourself  one  of  this 
kind  of  people,  I  conclude,  Mr.  Stead- 
man  ?"  asked  Miss  Finch. 

Mark  felt  that  this  was  a  very  disa- 
greeable question,  for  he  had  always  the 
strongest  repugnance  to  speaking  of  his 
own  feelings  or  opinions,  so  that  it  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  he  brought  out 
the  words, 

"I  do  not  like  to  call  myself,  or  to  be 
called  by  any  names  of  this  kind,  be- 
cause I  am  afraid  I  may  never  be  able 
to  keep  up  the  high  character  which 
they  demand  ;  but  if  you  mean  to  ask, 


72  MARK   STEADMAN. 

Miss  Finch,  whether  I  am  content  to 
live  only  for  this  world,  and  to  neglect 
the  commandments  of  God,  and  espe- 
cially the  blessings  he  has  offered  us  in 
Jesus  Christ,  I  must  reply  that  I  am  not, 
and  hope  I  never  shallbe." 

"Ah,  yes,"  replied  Miss  Finch,  "I 
understand.  It  is  all  the  same  thing. 
During  the  course  of  my  life  I  have  occa- 
sionally met  with  some  very  worthy  peo- 
ple of  your  way  of  thinking,  not  so  gen- 
teel, perhaps,  but  still  much  respected." 

And  here  Miss  Finch  changed  the 
subject,  and  began  to  ask  Mark  about 
Wales,  and  the  people,  and  scenery, 
etc.,  until  ten  o'clock  struck,  when  she 
rose,  and  wishing  him  good  morning, 
left  the  room,  remarking  that  she  sup- 
posed he  would  spend  the  day  out  some- 
where. 

She  had  scarcely  closed  the  door  be- 
fore Charlie  Archer  entered. 


THE   FIEST    SUNDAST.  73 

"Good  morning!"  exclaimed  he;  "and 
1  what  does  little  Birdie  say  ?'  Have  you 
actually  been  spending  a  whole  hour  here 
in  her  charming  society  alone  ?  Well, 
it 's  the  early  bird,  they  say,  that  catches 
the  worm,  and  it  serves  the  worm  right 
for  being  up  so  early;  so  that  will  be  a 
caution  for  you  another  time.  And  now, 
what  would  you  like  to  do  with  yourself 
to-day  ?  Shall  we  go  up  to  Clifton,  and 
on  the  down  ?  I  '11  show  you  about." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Mark,  "I  am 
much  obliged  ;  but  I  would  rather  not 
spend  Sunday  as  a  day  of  amusement." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Archer,  "that's 
your  line,  is  it  ?  I  rather  suspected  as 
much  last  night.  But,  my  dear  fellow, 
let  me  give  you  one  piece  of  advice,  and 
that  is,  don't  attempt  to  be  different  from 
other  people.  It's  the  worst  thing  pos- 
sible, I  can  assure  you,  if  you  ever  want 
to  get  on  in  the  world.  And  it's  no  use 


74  MARK   STEADMAN. 

either  :  because,  though  you  may  oegin 
like  this,  yet  sooner  or  later  you'll  have 
to  give  in  ;  and  then  it  really  isn't  worth 
while  having  made  a  fuss  about  it  at 
first.  I  know  quite  well  how  you  feel 
now,  but  those  feelings  will  wear  off 
after  you  have  been  here  a  little  while, 
so  it's  just  as  well  to  begin  as  3rou  mean 
to  go  on." 

"That's  just,  what  I  wish  to  do," 
replied  Mark. 

"Ah,  that's  all  very  well,"  said  Ar- 
cher; "many  a  fellow  thinks  that  when 
first  he  leaves  home ;  but  after  a  time 
he  finds  out  that  it  won't  do.  And  after 
all,  as  to  your  going  out  to-day,  why 
what  harm  can  there  be  in  that?  We 
have  no  holiday  but  on  Sunday ;  and  the 
Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  you  know, 
and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath." 

"I  know  that,"  replied  Mark;  "I 
don't  believe  that  in  keeping  the  Sab- 


THE    FIRST   SUNDAY.  75 

bath  holy  we  are  conferring  any  kind  of 
obligation,  as  it  were,  on  God,  who  has 
given  us  the  Sabbath  ;  but  I  look  on  it 
that  in  keeping  the  Sabbath  as  a  day  of 
rest  from  amusement  as  well  as  from 
work,  we  are  not  only  obeying  the  com- 
mand of  God,  but  are  doing  that  which 
is  the  best  possible  thing  for  ourselves." 

"Well,  each  one  to  his  taste,"  said 
Archer,  turning  to  the  breakfast-table  ; 
"for  my  part,  I've  had  enough  of  dull 
Sundays  at  school." 

"  I  do  not  think  a  Sabbath  well  spent 
because  it  is  dull,"  answered  Mark  ;  "but 
what  I  mean  is,  that  we  ought  to  endeav- 
or, once  a  week  at  least,  to  forget  the 
things  of  this  world,  and  try  to  turn  our 
thoughts  to  those  more  serious  things 
which,  whether  we  will  or  no,  we  can't 
help  having  to  do  with ;  and  it  seems  to 
me,  that  whatever  helps  us  in  this  is  a 
right  way  of  spending  the  Sabbath,  and 


76  MARK    STEADMAN. 

whatever  interferes  with  this  must  be 
bad." 

Mark  felt  almost  surprised  at  himself 
in  having  said  as  much  as  this,  and  Mr. 
Cocks  having  entered  the  room  just  as  he 
had  finished,  th'e  conversation  dropped  : 
and  soon  after  Mark  was  on  his  way  to 
the  place  of  worship  where  his  teacher, 
Mr.  Griffiths,  had  recommended  him  to 
attend. 

Owing  to  a  mistake  which  he  made  in 
the  time,  the  service  had  already  com- 
menced when  Mark  entered,  and  the 
congregation  being  large,  Mark  had  to 
stand  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  aisle  be- 
fore a  seat  could  be  found  for  him.  Just 
at  this  moment,  however,  a  gentleman 
happened  to  turn  his  head,  and  caught 
sight  of  Mark,  who,  being  unaccustomed 
to  strange  places,  felt  quite  shy  and  un- 
comfortable. In  a  moment  the  gentle- 
man, opening  his  pew-door,  beckoned  to 


THE  FIRST   SUNDAY.  77 

him,  and  kindly  invited  him  to  enter. 
Mark  found  in  the  pew  a  lady,  and  two 
little  girls  about  six  or  seven  years  of 
age,  who  made  room  for  him.  As  soon 
as  the  service  was  ended,  the  gentleman 
on  leaving  the  sanctuary  turned  to  Mark, 
and  asked  him  if  he  were  not  a  stran- 
ger, and  whether  he  had  been  long  in 
Bristol. 

Mark,  in  reply,  told  him  that  he  had 
only  left  home  for  the  first  time  two  days 
before ;  and  mentioning  the  name  of  his 
native  town  in  Wales,  added  that  it  was 
by  the  recommendation  of  Mr.  Griffiths, 
whose  Bible-class  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  attend,  that  he  had  been  in- 
duced to  choose  this  place  of  worship 
that  morning.  The  gentleman  then  told 
him  that  he  had  a  large  Bible-class  of 
young  men  connected  with  his  congre- 
gation, which  was  accustomed  to  meet  in 
a  room  adjoining  every  Sabbath  after- 


78  MARK    STEADMAN. 

noon,  arid  if  lie  felt  disposed,  it  would 
give  him  much  pleasure  to  see  him  there. 
Mark  was  pleased  to  hear  this  ;  it  seemed 
to  him  more  like  home  than  any  thing- 
he  had  met  with  since  his  arrival  in  Bris- 
tol ;  and  he  felt  disposed  to  regard  this 
stranger  with-  that  sudden  impulse  of 
friendly  feeling  which  only  those  can 
understand  who  have  found  themselves 
previously  surrounded  by  persons  whose 
opinions  and  sentiments  are  opposite  and 
uncongenial. 

Mark  came  away  much  happier  than 
he  went,  It  appeared  as  though  his 
merciful  Father  in  heaven  had  already 
manifested  some  of  that  tender  care  for 
him  with  which  he  continually  watches 
over  those  who  love  and  honor  him.  Xor 
can  we  doubt  but  that  in  regarding  this 
little  incident  as  directed  by  his  hand, 
Mark  was  perfectly  right;  for  though  we 
ought  ever  to  guard  against  that  spirit- 


THE   FIRST    SUNDAY.  79 

ual  pride  which  makes  us  fancy  some- 
times that  the  whole  machinery  of  Prov- 
idence is  employed  on  our  especial  be- 
half, and  to  accomplish  some  trivial  object 
on  which  we  may  have  set  our  hearts,  yet 
we  should  never  forget  the  promise  of 
our  Saviour  in  leaving  this  world  :  "Lo, 
I  am  with  you  alway ;"  nor  need  we 
hesitate  to  look  for  the  manifestation  of 
that  presence  in  the  direction  and  ar- 
rangement of  all  the  events  of  our  lives, 
and  more  especially  in  those  things  which 
tend  in  any  way  to  help  us  on  in  our 
Christian  course,  or  which  enable  us  the 
more  perfectly  to  resist  temptation,  or 
to  keep  clear  of  ungodly  influences. 
There  is  no  one,  who  has  long  been  the 
follower  of  Jesus  Christ,  but  who  has 
proved  many  a  time  in  his  experience, 
that  evil  has  been  shut  off  from  him  and 
good  influences  thrown  around  him, 
through  circumstances  which  were  whol- 


80  MAKE   STEADJIAtf. 

ly  unexpected  and  beyond  his  own  con- 
trol. 

Mark,  while  returning  home,  had  a 
dread  of  again  being  questioned  by  his 
companions;  and  though  to  some  this 
may  appear  as  cowardly,  yet  the  repug- 
nance really  arose  from  a  kind  of  feel- 
ing which  is  far  from  cowardly.  It  is 
one  thing  to  be  ashamed  of  our  senti- 
ments and  opinions,  and  another  to  ex- 
perience a  great  reluctance  to  express 
them  before  others ;  and  though  it  is 
true  that  if  this  sensitiveness  be  too 
much  indulged,  it  may  lead  to  false  and 
cowardly  conduct,  yet  it  is  equally  noto- 
rious that  boasters  are  often  the  first  to 
fly,  and  that  those  who  appear  to  have 
the  least  timidity  in  expressing  their 
opinions  or  in  displaying  their  more 
sacred  feelings,  are  not  the  most  firm 
always  when  pressed  hard  by  the  foe. 

The  stand  which  Mark  knew  that  he 


THE   FIRST   SUNDAY.  81 

must  take  against  those  around  him,  was 
to  be  a  resistance  against  the  old  foes  of 
God  and  man,  "the  world,  the  flesh,  and 
the  devil;"  and  he  felt  that  in  making 
this  he  needed  great  grace  and  strength 
from  above,  for  it  was  only  by  this  grace 
that  he  differed  in  any  way  from  the  rest. 
He  had  the  same  nature  as  they,  open 
to  the  same  impressions,  and  liable  to 
fall  into  the  same  temptations ;  and  it 
was  only  as  God  should  help  him  by  his 
Holy  Spirit  that  he  could  in  any  way 
overcome  these. 

He  did  not,  therefore,  look  upon  his 
companions  as  his  foes,  and  imagine  that 
the  battle  was  to  be  fought  out  between 
him  and  them  as  individuals — a  battle 
in  which  he  was  to  play  the  part  of  a 
"blessed  martyr,"  and  they  in  the  end 
to  be  signally  defeated,  and  either  pun- 
ished for  their  treatment  of  him,  or 
brought  over  to  his  side ;  but  he  felt 


Mark  Steartmsn. 


82  MAKE    STEADMAN. 

that  the  enemy  to  be  watched  and  con- 
quered was  no  one  else  but  himself — that 
is,  his  nature — which  being  placed  for 
the  time  among  those  who  yielded  to 
their  native  impulses,  and  had  no  desire 
to  make  the  will  of  God  their  object  in 
life,'  he  would  be  strongly  pressed  to 
yield  also,  and  to  give  up  the  toilsome 
narrow  way  for  the  easier  broad  road. 
Mark  believed  and  hoped  that  he  had 
begun  to  build  on  the  true  foundation, 
Jesus  Christ :  but  he  often  feared  lest  he 
might  on  this  lay  nothing  but  wood,  hay, 
stubble,  instead  of  the  gold  and  silver 
of  a  life  consecrated  to  God. 

On  his  return  to  Mr.  Watson's  house 
he  found  no  one  in  the  parlor  but  Mr. 
Green,  who,  yawning  and  stretching  his 
arms,  threw  down  the  novel  he  had  been 
reading  the  night  before,  and  wondered 
"how  ever  anybody  in  the  world  could 
like  to  write  such  trash." 


THE    FIEST   SUNDAY.  83 

Mark  felt  much  disposed  to  reply,  that 
he  supposed  people  liked  to  write  it  be- 
cause other  people  liked  to  read  it.  He 
said  nothing,  however,  and  the  dinner 
being  ready,  they  both  sat  down  to  the 
table.  Neither  Mr.  Cocks  nor  Charlie 
Archer  made  their  appearance ;  and  Mr. 
Green,  after  abusing  both  for  going  out 
before  he  came  down  and  leaving  him 
alone  for  the  day,  finished  his  meal  in 
silence.  Directly  after  dinner  Mark  set 
out  for  the  Bible-class,  and  on  entering 
the  room,  he  found  ten  or  twelve  young 
men  already  assembled ;  and  soon  after 
his  friend  of  the  morning  appeared, 
whose  name  he  found,  on  inquiring  of 
some  one  next  to  him,  was  Mr.  Locke, 
"the  manager  of  the  bank  in  High- 
street,77  added  his  informant. 

The  class  was  going  through  a  series 
of  lessons  on  the  young  men  of  the  Bible, 
and  the  subject  for  this  afternoon  was 


84  JIAHK  STEADM AN. 

the  character  and  life  of  Daniel  at  the 
Babylonian  court.  Many  of  the  remarks 
made  by  Mr.  Locke  were  felt  \)j  Mark 
to  be  peculiarly  appropriate  to  his  own 
circumstances  and  dangers ;  and  so  in- 
terested was  he  that  he  could  scarcely 
believe  that  more  than  an  hour  had  pass- 
ed away  when  the  lesson  was  concluded. 
Before  leaving  the  room  Mr.  Locke  had 
a  few  words  to  say  to  each  of  his  class, 
for  he  seemed  well  acquainted  with  them 
all.  As  Mark  wished  him  good  after- 
noon, Mr.  Locke  remarked  that  their 
road  lay  in  the  same  direction,  and  that 
he  would  walk  with  Mark  as  far  as  Mr. 
Watson's.  On  their  way  he  asked  him 
about  his  home,  and  then  it  came  out 
that  Mr.  Locke  and  his  family  had  been 
lodging  in  S during  the  last  sum- 
mer, that  he  had  paid  three  or  four  vis- 
its even  to  the  shop  of  Mrs.  Steadman, 
and  had  several  times  entered  into  con- 


THE   FIEST   SUNDAY.  85 

versation  with  Uncle  Jack  upon  the 
pier.  This  made  Mark  feel  more  confi- 
dential than  ever,  and  he  told  Mr.  Locke 
more  of  his  hopes  and  fears  respecting 
his  new  life  at  his  uncle's  than  he  would 
have  thought  it  possible  he  could  have 
ever  confided  to  a  stranger  of  but  a 
day's  acquaintance ;  but  there  was  that 
kind  of  frankness  and  sympathy  about 
Mr.  Locke  that  always  won  the  trust 
and  affection  of  the  young. 

As  they  reached  Mr.  Watson's  shop, 
and  Mark  was  about  to  bid  his  new 
friend  good-afternoon,  Mr.  Locke  said : 

"But  why  shouldn't  yon  come  on  a 
few  steps  farther,  and  drink  tea  with 
me  this  afternoon  ?  You  have  promised 
to  come  and  see  me,  and  you  may  as 
well  do  it  at  once." 

Mark  willingly  consented,  and  they 
soon  found  themselves  at  Mr.  Locke's 
door.  He  took  Mark  up  stairs  into  a 


86  MARK   STEADMAN. 

pleasant  drawing-room  over  the  bank, 
and  there  introduced  him  to  a  lady, 
whose  kind  and  lively  manner  at  once 
made  Mark  feel  at  home.  On  the  floor 
were  the  two  little  girls  whom  Mark  had 
seen  in  the  pew  in  the  morning,  with  a 
baby-brother  of  about  six  months  old. 
After  a  few  remarks,  Mrs.  Locke  called 
the  little  girls  to  her,  and  bade  them 
sing  to  their  papa  the  hymn  she  had 
taught  them  that  afternoon;  and  Mark 
thought  he  had  never  heard  any  thing 
prettier  than  when  their  sweet  little 
voices  sang  so  perfectly  and  clearly  the 
hymn  he  used  to  know  so  well : 

"Around  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven 

Thousands  of  children  stand, 
Children  -whose  sins  are  all  forgiven, 
A  holy,  happy  band, 
Singing,  'Glory,  glory, 
Glory  be  to  God  most  high.' 

When  they  had  finished,  Mrs.  Locke 
rang  the  bell,  and  desiring  the  servant 


TEE    FIRST    SUNDAY.  87 

to  take  the  baby,  told  the  little  girls 
they  might  have  tea  down  stairs  that 
evening  with  Mary  and  baby;  and  then 
she  invited  Mark  to  come  to  the  table, 
and  began  to  pour  out  the  tea. 

A  pleasant  conversation  followed, 
which  though  in  harmony  with  the  sanc- 
tity of  the  clay,  in  no  way  partook  of 
that  gloom  or  affectation  which  many 
persons  fancy  must  be  inseparable  from 
the  consideration  of  topics  beyond  the 
range  of  ordinary  life.  Among  other 
things  the  subject  of  the  discussion-class 
came  up,  suggested  by  a  remark  made 
by  Mr.  Locke,  on  the  tendency  in  the 
present  day  to  prefer  novelty  to  truth  j 
and  Mark  asked .  Mr.  Locke's  opinion 
about  it,  adding,  at  the  same  time,  that 
he  had  half  promised  Mr.  Cocks  to  go 
with  him  next  Tuesday  evening. 

"I    think    sometimes,"    replied    Mr. 
Locke,  "that  a  good  discussion  on  a  sub- 


88  MARK    STEADMAN. 

ject  is  a  capital  thing ;  it  seems  to  clear 
away  a  great  deal  of  that  vagueness  in 
which  we  are  often  content  to  leave  our 
ideas,  and  confirms  us  in  the  reason- 
ableness of  an  opinion,  which  we  might 
have  previously  formed  rather  from  some 
happy  combination  of  circumstances  than 
as  the  result  of  much  thought.  When, 
therefore,  two  or  three  friends  happen 
to  fall  into  a  discussion,  upon  some  ques- 
tion, and  place  it  in  different  lights,  much 
benefit  may  result,  so  long  as  truth  is 
not.  sacrificed  for  the  sake  of  maintain- 
ing an  opinion  ;  but  I  must  say,  I  greatly 
fear  that  in  these  classes,  where  people 
assemble  together  regularly  for  the  pur- 
pose of  debate,  truth  is  not  always  the 
object  kept  in  view.  When,  therefore, 
the  subjects  debated  are  taken  from 
among  those  solemn  realities  which  must 
be  held  by  faith  rather  than  by  reason, 
then  I  cannot  but  think  that  immense 


THE   FIRST   SUNDAY.  89 

harm  must  be  done  by  such  discus- 
sions." 

"But  there  would  always  be  some  to 
take  the  right  side,"  urged  Mark. 

"That  may  be,"  replied  Mr.  Locke; 
"but  why  is  what  you  call  lihe  right  side1 
chosen  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  in  deci- 
ding which  side  to  take,  it  is  scarcely 
possible  that  any  one  should  be  actu- 
ated simply  by  that  honest,  straightfor- 
ward desire  to  see  all,  and  no  more  than 
the  truth,  which  ought  to  animate  us  in 
adopting  our  convictions.  Every  sub- 
ject is  regarded  as  having  two  sides,  one 
of  which  must  be  hastily  chosen ;  and 
this  rapid  choice  is  frequently  directed 
merely  by  some  trivial  circumstance  or 
passing  whim  of  the  fancy.  The  mind 
tl\us  becomes  accustomed  to  the  danger- 
ous and  degrading  habit  of  regarding 
truth  and  error  as  light  matters,  either 
of  which  may  be  caught  at,  just  as  the 


90  MARK    STEADMAN. 

wind  happens  to  blow  cither  in  our 
direction.  Under  the  influence  of  this 
spirit,  humble,  earnest  thought  and  sound 
judgment  soon  disappear,  and  give  place 
to  a  supercilious  levity,  which  scoffs  at 
and  rejects  venerable  truths  resting  on 
a  solid  foundation  of  reason  and  common 
sense ;  and  yet  at  the  same  time  will 
devour  with  the  greatest  credulity  ab- 
surdities which  ignorance  alone  pronoun- 
ces novelties,  and  which  are  utterly  de- 
void of  any  reasonable  basis." 

"But  do  you  think  that  all  serious 
subjects  must  be  avoided?"  asked  Mark. 

"By  serious  subjects,  I  do  not  mean 
only  those  we  usually  call  religious," 
replied  Mr.  Locke;  "I  include  among 
them  all  those  questions  on  which  a 
thoughtful,  earnest  man  would  like  j;o 
arrive  at  a  true  and  faithful  conclusion. 
But,  in  fact,  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
fix  on  any  subject  in  which  truth  is  not 


THE   FIE.ST   SUNDAY,  91 

involved ;  and  to  discover  this  aright  is 
no  trifling  matter  in  which  we  may  fol- 
low our  own  fancies ;  but  it  is  a  serious 
work,  in  which  we  are  bound  to  use  our 
best  care  and  pains,  as  in  the  sight  of 
God,  in  order  to  accomplish  it  as  per- 
fectly as  possible.  I  think  we  do  right 
to  remember  always,  in  every  movement 
of  the  mind  both  great  and  small,  that 
we  are  responsible  to  God  for  them,  and 
that  He  will  as  much  take  account  of 
these  passing  impressions  and  opinions, 
as  of  our  external  actions.  It  is  true 
the  hackneyed  quotation  of  the  poet 
says : 

' ' '  For  forms  of  faith  let  senseless  bigots  fight : 
He  can't  be  \vrong  whose  life  is  in  the  right ;' 

but  the  sentiment  is  not  a  just  one  unless 
we  understand  by  'life'  here  all  the  ac- 
tivity of  which  our  natures  are  capable, 
whether  mental,  moral,  sentimental,  or 
physical." 


92  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

"I  think  I  see  the  danger  you  mean, 
as  probably  arising  from  the  habit  of 
taking  a  part  in  these  discussions,"  said 
Mark.  "I  had  rather  thought  of  them 
myself  as  an  opportunity  of  gaining 
information  on  many  subjects  of  which, 
I  must  confess,  I  am  very  ignorant.  I 
should  be  only  a  listener." 

"  I  did  not  intend  in  any  way  to  say 
to  you,  leave  these  things  alone  because 
it  is  difficult  to  come  to  a  right  under- 
standing of  them  and  there  are  dangers 
on  the  road,"  said  Mr.  Locke.  "I  think 
every  one  ought  to  be  engaged  in  the 
conscientious  cultivation  of  his  own  mind, 
in  a  diligent  search  after  truth,  and  anx- 
ious for  the  formation  of  sound  and  cor- 
rect opinions ;  but  I,  for  one,  should  not 
choose  a  class  like  this  as  the  means  best 
adapted  to  these  ends." 

'  What  then  would  you  recommend  ?" 
asked  Mark.  "  I  should  be  glad  of  any 


THE    FIRST   SUNDAY.  93 

means  for  improving  myself,  for  I  find 
already,  now  I  come  to  be  with  others, 
how  behindhand  I  am.  Even  in  these 
few  days  I  have  heard  many  things  spo- 
ken of  about  which  I  know  nothing. 
My  mother  gave  me  the  best  education 
she  could  afford,  but  I  think  it  must  have 
been  very  inferior  to  that  of  the  other 
young  men  at  Mr.  Watson's." 

"That  may  be,"  replied  Mr.  Locke; 
"but  you  have  plenty  of  time  before 
you,  and  by  steady  work  during  the 
next  few  years  may  more  than  make  up 
for  past  deficiencies.  You  shall  come 
here  some  evening  soon,  and  we  will 
have  a  little  examination,  and  find  out 
your  weak  points,  and  talk  over  the 
best  plan  for  remedying  them." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Mark. 

"  In  the  meantime  I  think  Mr.  Stead- 
man  would  much  enjoy  those  nice  lec- 
tures which  Mr.  Copeman  has  been  giv- 


94  MARK   STEADMAN. 

ing  to  your  class  on  Wednesday  even- 
ings," said  Mrs.  Locke. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Locke;  "I  was 
going  to  tell  him  of  them.  A  friend  of 
mine,"  continued  he,  turning  to  Mark, 
"has  undertaken  to  give  the  class  you 
joined  this  afternoon  a  course  of  lectures, 
or  lessons  on  English  literature.  He 
has  already  introduced  us  to  some  great 
men  of  the  past,  and  to  their  writings, 
in  a  most  interesting  manner  j  and  I  am 
sure  you  would  find  an  evening  pass 
very  pleasantly  in  this  way." 

In  the  evening  Mark  accompanied 
his  kind  friends  to  the  same  place  of 
worship  where  he  had  attended  in  the 
morning,  after  which  he  returned  home, 
satisfied  that  the  Sabbath  had  not  been 
to  him  at  any  rate  a  "dull  day,"  nor 
unprofitable  for  the  great  end  for  which 
the  day  was  appointed. 


TKIALS  AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS.      95 


TRIALS   AND   ENCOURAGEMENTS. 

MARK  had  now  settled  into  his  new 
life  at  Mr.  Watson's,  and  one  day  suc- 
ceeded another  without  any  very  great 
distinction.  It  is  not  for  extraordinary 
events  that  we  have  to  prepare  our- 
selves, for  life  consists  for  the  most  part 
of  little  pleasures,  small  trials,  and  slight 
temptations,  and  it  is  these  that  we  have 
to  watch  against,  and  to  use  as  helps  in 
our  spiritual  progress :  now  and  then 
may  come  some  rare  storm,  or  some  few 
weeks  of  wonderful  summer  sunshine, 
demanding  unusual  strength ;  but  these 
seasons  are  not  the  ordinary  weather  of 
life.  Mark  did  not  find,  however,  that 
he  could  therefore  cease  to  watch  and 
pray,  and  let  his  life  take  its  own  course : 


S)G  MARK   STEADMAN. 

even  in  fair  weather,  a  ship  cannot  be 
left  to  its  own  guidance,  but  still  re- 
quires the  attention  and  care  of  the  cap- 
tain and  steersman. 

During  the  day,  he  endeavored,  as  far 
as  possible,  to  attend  to  all  the  duties 
of  his  situation,  and  to  promote  in  every 
way  the  interests  of  his  employer;  for 
he  knew  that  it  was  just  this  work  to 
which  God  now  called  him,  and  that  in 
the  conscientious  discharge  of  it  he  was 
doing  the  will  of  his  Father  in  heaven, 
although  it  consisted  merely  in  carrying 
out  parcels,  in  measuring  out  yards  of 
stuff,  or  in  attempting  to  satisfy  the 
tastes  of  fastidious  customers.  In  the 
evening,  and  at  such  time  as  he  had  at 
his  own  disposal,  he  set  to  work  dili- 
gently to  remedy  the  defects  in  his  edu- 
cation, by  the  study  of  those  things  in 
which  he  found  himself  deficient ;  and 
he  also  experienced  great  pleasure  in 


TRIALS  AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS.      97 

attending  Mr.  Copeman's  lectures,  in 
connection  with  the  Bible-class,  and  in 
reading  many  of  the  books  lent  him  by 
Mr.  Locke.  Through  these  means  a  new 
world  of  fine  thoughts  and  beautiful  fan- 
cies was  opened  before  him.  in  the  en- 
joyment of  which  he  forgot  many  a  little 
worry  and  passing  anxiet}r,  while  at  the 
same  time  his  mind  became  widened 
and  cultivated  by  this  intercourse  with 
the  wise  and  good  of  other  days. 

No  argument  is  perhaps  now  needed, 
in  order  to  convince  people  that  religion 
has  nothing  in  it  which  is  opposed  to 
intellectual  progress,  but  it  by  no  means 
follows  that  all  so-called  intellectual  pur- 
suits are  in  harmony  with  the  great  ends 
of  religion.  Intellectual  progress  can 
only  be  maintained  so  far  as  truth  is 
always  kept  in  view ;  errors  and  chime- 
ras may  be  pursued  by  the  intellect 
through  their  winding,  erratic  course, 


98  MARK    STEADMAN. 

ending  in  leaving  the  mind  farther  back 
upon  the  road  of  ignorance  and  dark- 
ness than  when  the  chase  began.  Every 
thing  which  promotes  the  real  good  of 
the  soul,  the  mind,  or  the  body,  ought 
to  be  claimed  by  religion  as  its  servant ; 
but  as  all  bodily  exercise  is  not  neces- 
sarily productive  of  health,  but  may 
tend  only  to  cause  fatigue  or  even  dis- 
ease, so  mental  activity,  unless  used 
rightly,  may  have  no  other  effect  than 
to  distort  the  ideas,  to  deform  the  mind, 
and  to  lead  the  soul  away  from  the  true 
source  of  all  enlightenment  and  knowl- 
edge, down  among  the  dark  mountains 
of  error. 

It  was  no  easy  thing  for  Mark,  as  it 
never  will  be  for  any  human  being,  to 
make,  the  will  of  God  not  only  his  rule 
of  life,  but  the  standard  by  which  to  try 
every  thought,  opinion^  and  feeling;  and 
he  constantly  found  himself  falling  into 


TRIALS  AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS.      90 

the  same  ideas  as  were  held  by  those 
around  him,  and  in  danger  of  adopting 
their  standard  instead  of  the  one  ap- 
pointed by  God  in  his  word.  For  in- 
stance, it  was  very  difficult  to  continue 
to  regard  with  the  same  reverence  and 
respect,  as  he  once  did,  those  truths 
which  he  now  heard  lightly  discussed, 
and  characterized  as  old-fashioned,  obso- 
lete views,  rejected  by  all  the  "advanced 
thinkers  "  of  the  day ;  while  the  insinu- 
ation would  be  added,  that  it  was  only 
because  he  had  lived  all  his  life  in  one 
circle,  that  he  still  held  them.  But  in- 
nate? d  of  casting  them  off  as  old  gar- 
ments, no  longer  in  the  mode,  he  would 
ask  himself,  Is  it  because  I  have  heard 
these  things  from  my  youth  that  I  be- 
lieve them  to  be  true  ?  Have  they  any 
real  foundation  for  themselves?  And 
in  answering  these  queries,  he  found  the 
great  advantage  of  such  a  friend  as  Mr. 


100  MARK   6TEADJIAN. 

Locke,  a  man  not  like  himself  feeling 
after  things,  but  who  had  already  trav- 
elled the  same  road  and  knew  ever}7 
step  of  the  way. 

Another  temptation  which  Mark  found 
press  upon  him  very  strongly  at  this 
time,  arose  from  his  constantly  having 
the  idea  brought  before  him,  both  by 
words  and  practice,  that  in  order  to  get 
on  in  the  world,  it  was  absolutely  need- 
ful, not  only  to  think  as  other  people 
thought,  but  to  do  as  they  did,  to  go 
where  they  went,  to  see  what  they  saw, 
and  hear  what  they  heard ;  to  have,  in 
fact,  no  standard  of  manners  or  morals 
of  his  own. 

He  found  himself  tempted  continually 
to  ask,  Why  should  I  be  different  from 
those  around  me?  Why,  at  any  rate, 
may  I  not  do  this  and  that,  so  as,  as  far 
as  possible,  to  be  taken  for  a  young  man 
who  knows  the  world?  For  Mark  could 


1RIALS  AND  ENCOUKAGEMENTS.    101 

not  glory,  as  some  people  say  they  do, 
in  being  peculiar ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
found  it  very  hard  work  indeed,  so  much 
so,  that  he  often  felt  as  if  he  could  hold 
out  no  longer,  but  must  yield  to  the  in- 
fluences around  him,  for  he  discovered 
much  in  his  own  nature  which  sympa- 
thized with  these. 

Persons  sometimes  think  that  in  set- 
ting out  on  the  Christian  course  they 
have  become  so  different  in  their  very 
natures  from  those  who  are  living  with- 
out God  in  the  world,  that  though  they 
may  expect  persecution  from  them,  yet 
they  are  in  no  danger  of  being  attracted 
by  those  things  which  charm  others ; 
thus  a  feeling  of  conscious  superiority 
and  of  self-security  is  induced,  which, 
besides  being  in  itself,  a  sin,  is  no  kind 
of  safeguard  against  the  dangers  lying 
before  them.  Indeed,  we  not  unfre- 
quently  see  that  those  who  set  out  thank- 


102  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

ing  God  that  they  are  not  as  other  men, 
are  permitted  by  him  to  fall  into  many 
of  the  snares  which  they  despised,  in 
order  to  teach  them  that  they  are  like 
others,  and  that  the  only  difference  is 
in  the  mercy  and  grace  of  God  granted 
to  them. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Mark  re- 
ceived two  letters  from  home.  They 
came  just  as  he  was  feeling  much  dis- 
couraged, because  that,  notwithstanding 
all  his  efforts,  he  yet  experienced  much 
of  the  effects  of  the  atmosphere  in  which 
he  was  living.  They  may  not  have  all 
the  inspiriting  influence  upon  others  in 
similar  circumstances  which  they  had 
upon  him,  because,  apart  from  the  words 
of  counsel  in  themselves,  they  came  to 
him  surrounded  with  all  the  associations 
of  affection  and  home  ;  but  still  they  may 
perhaps  be  considered  worth  preserving. 

The  first  which  he  opened  was  written 


TRIALS  AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS.    103 

in  the  large  round  hand,  the  lines  of  which 
were  jet  so  unsteady,  which  he  recog- 
nized as  that  of  his  uncle  Jack.  It  began : 

"DEAR  BOY:  I  have  not  much  of  a 
fist  to  handle  a  pen,  as  you  know,  for 
the  worst  of  it  is,  they  will  make  them 
so  small,  that  there's  nothing  to  lay  hold 
on.  I  never  was  one  to  refuse  to  lend 
a  hand  to  haul  a  line  or  throw  a  har- 
poon, but  then  you  see,  when  you've 
got  hold  of  them  you  know  where  you 
are,  and  what  they  is ;  but  I  do  assure 
you,  if  it  wasn't  for  my  eyes,  I  could  n't 
tell  you  now  whether  I  had  a  pen  at  ween 
my  fingers  or  no.  If  you  should  meet 
with  any  pens  a  decent  size  over  in 
Bristol,  I  '11  trouble  you  to  buy  me  one ; 
so  I  can't  help  it  if  the  letters  is  not  so 
ship-shape  as  they  ought  to  be. 

"  I  have  seen  your  mother  last  week, 
and  she  read  me  part  of  your  letter. 
My  dear  boy,  don't  be  down-hearted; 


MABK   STEADMAN. 

if  you  supposes  you  're  the  first  man 
that  discovered  quicksands  and  met  with 
foul  weather,  why  all  I  can  tell  you  is, 
that  you  're  very  much  mistook.  So 
long  as  you  've  got  the  Pilot  with  you, 
you  '11  weather  many  a  storm  yet ;  and 
we  sha  n't  expect  to  hear  you  've  made 
a  wreck  of  it,  for  you  're  not  the  first 
by  a  great  deal,  that  He  have  brought 
through  worse  dangers  safe  into  port; 
letting  alone  that  he  knows  every  wave, 
and  every  wind,  and  every  rock,  as  well 
as  any  thing,  for  have  n't  he  made  the 
whole  voyage  first  of  all  himself,  and 
alone?  As  the  hymn  says — it  goes  best 
to  'Portugal' — 

"  'By  prayer  let  me  wrestle, 

And  he  will  perform  ; 
With  Christ  in  the  vessel, 

I  smile  at  the  storm. 
Each  sweet  Eben-Ezer 

I  have  in  review, 
Confirms  his  good  pleasure 

To  help  me  quite  through.' 


TRIALS  AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS.    105 

Therefore,  my  dear  boy,  cheer  up,  mind 
your  orders,  keep  a  good  look  ahead, 
let  every  thing  be  in  sailing  trim,  and 
never  mind  a  few  squalls.  The  Lord 
bless  and  keep  thee,  and  make  his  face 
to  shine  upon  thee. 

"Your  affectionate  uncle, 

"JOHN  MASTEKS." 

The  other  letter,  Mark  saw  with  pleas- 
ure, was  from  Mr.  Griffiths : 

' '  MY  DEAR  MARK  :  I  was  much  pleased 
to  receive  your  letter,  and  have  been 
waiting  until  I  could  command  a  little 
leisure,  that  1  might  reply  to  it  more  at 
length.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  like 
your  situation  so  well,  and  find  your 
companions  so  pleasant,  but  am  not  sur- 
prised at  the  difficulties  to  which  you 
allude. 

"I  believe  there  is  but  one  way  of 
overcoming  the  influences  of  worldly 
associations,  and  that  means,  happily, 


-106  MARK   STEADMAN. 

lies  in  every  one's  hands ;  it  is,  to  use 
more  than  ordinary  diligence  in  endeav- 
oring to  keep  the  mind  filled  with  holy 
thoughts  and  feelings,  and  firmly  fixed 
on  God's  truth.  Many  persons  fancy 
that  to  lead  a  spiritual  life,  some  extra- 
ordinary revelations  are  required,  and 
some  very  peculiar  line  of  conduct  must  be 
adopted ;  but  the  common  way  in  which 
God  blesses  our  souls,  and  by  which  we 
may  daily  grow  in  grace  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ,  is  by  the 
frequent  study  of  his  word  and  constant 
prayer  for  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
I  have  no  better  plan  to  suggest  to  you 
than  this  old-fashioned  one  ;  and  I  must 
remind  you  that  faithfulness  and  dili- 
gence in  the  use  of  these  means  are  far 
higher  qualities  in  themselves,  and  more 
blessed  of  God,  than  ingenuity  in  dis- 
covering new  methods  of  obtaining  the 
blessings  we  need.  The  greater  you 


iivlALS  AND  ENCOUBAGEMENTS.    107 

find  your  tendency  to  be  influenced  by 
earthly  things,  give  the  more  time  to 
prayer,  meditation,  and  the  study  of  the 
Scriptures.  These  exercises,  I  believe, 
lie  at  the  root  of  all  strength  and  holi- 
ness of  character ;  they  are  the  true  food 
of  the  soul,  the  sap  by  which  we  main- 
tain our  union  to  the  Vine,  in  which  our 
life  consists.  By  these  we  may  hold 
fast  to  Christ  our  Saviour  and  our  hope  ; 
and  in  thus  clinging  to  him,  we  shall  not 
fall,  though  our  enemies  may  be  many 
and  subtle.  Take  courage  then,  my 
dear  Mark  ;  as  long  as  you  hold  fast  to 
God,  be  assured  he  will  never  forsake 
you,  or  suffer  you  to  be  tempted  beyond 
what  you  can  bear,  and  beyond  what  is 
good  and  needful  for  you.  I  am  very 
glad  that  you  have  been  able  at  once  to 
let  it  be  seen  whose  you  are,  and  whom 
you  desire  to  serve.  Very  much  de- 
pends on  this ;  for  if  you  allow  yourself 


108  MAKK   STEADMAN. 

at  first  to  be  considered  as  belonging  to 
the  world,  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to 
declare  yourself  afterwards,  and  every 
word  and  act  that  does  this  will  be  a 
battle ;  whereas  by  taking  your  ground 
at  once,  you  will  be  expected  after- 
wards to  live  according  to  the  part  you 
have  chosen. 

"  With  regard  to  your  question  about 
what  are  called  'worldly  amusements,' 
I  really  have  very  little  to  say.  You 
do  not  of  course  refer  to  those  of  which 
the  pleasure  consists  in  sin ;  there  can 
be  but  one  course  in  regard* to  these ; 
and  as  to  those  which  cannot  with  jus- 
tice be  called  evil  in  themselves,  you  can 
judge  by  the  effect  on  your  own  mind. 

"Many  things,  though  ihey  may  not 
be  absolutely  unlawful,  are  yet  not  ex- 
pedient. And  other  engagements  are 
undoubtedly  of  the  world,  and  can  only 
suit  a  worldly  spirit ;  their  associations 


TRIALS  AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS.     109 

and  tendencies  are  unfriendly  to  reli- 
gious habits  and  feelings.  Cultivate 
cheerful  piety ;  avoid  all  'that  is  frivo- 
lous and  unseemly. 

"You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  your 
vacant  place  in  the  class  is  alreadj^  filled 
by  a  lad  whom  your  Uncle  Jaclf  picked 
up  on  the  pier  one  Sunday  afternoon, 
and  persuaded  to  attend.  He  had  only 
come  to  the  town  the  evening  before, 
and  has  been  under  good  influences  at 
home,  so  that  we  are  very  much  pleased 
to  get  hold  of  him.  I  saw  your  uncle 
last  Sabbath.  He  was  on  his  way  to  the 
Bethel  ship,  and  looked  very  well  and 
happy,  having  three  young  sailors  in 
tow. 

"I  hope,  my  dear  Mark,  you  will  write 
me  a  long  letter  again  soon ;  pray  re- 
member the  pleasure  it  is  to  me  to  hear 
from  you,  and  how  much  interested  I  am 
in  all  your  difficulties  and  temptations; 


110  MARK   STEAD  MAN. 

write  to  me  freely,  and  ask  me  as  many 
questions  as  you  please.  I  often  think 
of  you,  and  pray  that  God  may  train 
you  by  these  trials  into  a  good  soldier 
of  Jesus  Christ;  for  we  are  not  called 
to  put  on  the  Christian  armor  merely 
that  w^may  live  a  life  of  ease,  but  that 
we  may  fight  the  battles  of  the  Lord. 
"Believe  me  always 

"Your  verv  sincere  Friend, 

* 

"HENRY  GRIFFITHS." 


TEIALS  AND  ENCOURAGEMENTS.    Ill 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

A   TRIAL  OF  PRINCIPLE. 

THE  six  months  appointed  by  Mr. 
Watson  as  Mark's  probation  were  now 
drawing  towards  a  close.  Three  weeks 
only  of  the  term  remained,  and  Mark 
was  becoming  very  anxious  to  know  his 
uncle's  opinion  of  his  services,  and 
whether  he  considered  them  worth  re- 
taining at  a  fixed  salary.  He  had  en- 
deavored, as  far  as  he  could,  to  perform 
every  duty  which  fell  to  him  as  per- 
fectly as  possible,  and  to  seek  his  uu- 
cle's  interest  in  disposing  of  the  goods 
in  the  shop  to  the  best  of  his  power,  "as 
ever  in  the  great  Taskmaster's  eye ;" 
and  hitherto  he  had  found  that  the  ser- 
vice of  God,  for  him,  consisted  in  thus 
attending  as  faithfully  and  diligently  as 


112  MARK   STEADMAN. 

he  could  to  the  duties  of  his  situation  as 
junior  assistant  in  his  uncle's  shop.  So 
well  had  he  done  this,  that  Mr.  Watson 
had  frequently  commended  his  prudence 
and  sagacity  in  many  little  matters  con- 
nected with  the  business  ;  and  Mark^ 
while  daily  seeking  help  from  God  in 
his  work,  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  godliness  is  as  profitable  for  the 
life  that  now  is — meaning  by  that,  the 
getting  on  in  the  world — as  it  is  for  the 
life  to  come. 

A  circumstance,  nevertheless,  now  oc- 
curred, for  which  he  was  wholly  unpre- 
pared, and  which  led  him  to  see  that, 
however  much  prudence  and  industry, 
with  God's  blessing,  may  tend  to  earthly 
prosperity,  yet  that  in  themselves  they 
must  never  be  the  end  of  the  Christian, 
whose  aim  is  to  seek  first  the  kingdom 
of  God  and  His  righteousness,  trusting 
in  Him  to  add  all  other  needful  things. 


A   TRIAL   OF   PEIXCIPLE.  113 

"Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  mammon," 
is  as  true  in  these  days  as  when  our 
Saviour  first  uttered  the  words  ;  although 
it  is  equally  true  that  we  see  man}'  good 
men  who,  while  serving  God  first,  have 
been  blessed  with  the  riches  and  pros- 
perity of  this  world. 

It  happened  one  day  that  in  opening 
a  package  newly  received,  Mr.  Watson 
took  out  a  piece  of  silk,  which  he  desired 
Mark  to  measure  off  into  dresses  of 
twelve  yards  each,  and  mark  as  such. 
Mark  measured  the  silk,  and  found  there 
were  barely  thirty-five  yards. 

"I  must  cut  one  of  the  dresses  only 
eleven  yards,  sir,"  said  Mark;  "there 
are  scarcely  thirty -five  yards  in  the 
piece." 

"What  an  abominable  shame  that 
is."  exclaimed  Mr.  Watson  ;  "  that  7s  tbe 
way  they  all  serve  us  now-a-days.  No, 
3'ou  must  divide  the  silk  into  three ;  I 


»dm«n. 


114  MAKE    STEii-DMAX. 

can't  afford  to  lose  a  yard  of  that  silk ; 
I  've  paid  ten  pounds  for  that  piece,  and 
I  must  have  three  dresses  out  of  it." 

"  Of  course  I  am  not  to  mark  then  ui 
twelve  yards,"  said  Mark. 

"  And  why  not?"  asked  i  >on. 

"Because  they  won't  bo  much  more 
than  eleven  yards  and  a  half,"  answer- 
ed Mark. 

"  I  can't  help  that,"  rcpii  ucle  ; 

"it's  not  my  fault.  If  o.  ^ple 

cheat,  I  can't  afford  to  lose.'' 

Mark  hesitated,  and  put  the  auk  d< 

"Come,  no  nonsense,"  continued  Mr. 
Watson  ;  "I  am  sure  I  wish  with  all  my 
heart  the  old  times  would  come  back 
again,  when  men  dealt  honestly  with 
one  another  ;  but  it 's  no  use  now-a-days. 
You  must  buy  and  sell  as  other  people 
do,  or  else  shut  up  shop  altogether." 

"But  why  need  !  12  yds.'  be  marked 
on  these  dresses  ?"  said  Mark. 


A   TEIAL   OF   PKIi:  115 

"  Why,"  replied  Mr.  M.;"u'you 

mark  eleven  yards  and  »L.u:',  of  course 
a  customer  will  expect  'to  pay  less,  be- 
cause of  the  short  length.  You  '11*  never 
do  business  that  way,  boy  ;  so  do  as  I  ?ve 
told  j'ou  at  once." 

"  I  do  n't  think  it  can  be  right,"  began 
Mark. 

"Hold  3'our  tongue,"  said  his  uncle  ; 
"  it 's  my  affair,  and  not  yours.  It 's  my 
shop,  and  my  goods,  and  it  is  I  who  say 
it,  and  not  you.  You  only  do  as  3-011 
arc  bid  ;"  and  he  hastily  left  the  shop. 

A  hearty  laugh  behind  him  caused 
Mark  to  turn  round. 

"Oh  for  Diogenes  and  his  lantern!" 
exclaimed  Charlie  Archer.  "Here,  la- 
dies and  gentlemen,"  continued  he, 
pointing  towards  Mark,  "here  you  be- 
hold the  remains  of  that  extinct  species 
of  humanity — the  honest  man.  In  the 
days  when  mastodons  and  ichthyosauri 


116  MAKE    STEADMAN. 

walked  about  upon  the  earth,  this  lost 
race  of  mankind  is  also  supposed  to  have 
existed.  Civilization  and  commerce 
have,  however,  driven  them  to  the  ut- 
most limits  of  creation,  and  there  is  no 
room  for  them  now  in  any  well-to-do  com- 
munity. Here,  in  this  mistaken  indi- 
vidual, you  behold  one  of  the  last  speci- 
mens, and  I  strongly  recommend  him 
either  to  shut  himself  up  in  a  glass-case 
and  take  himself  about  as  a  curiosity,  or 
to  depart  for  another  sphere,  where  his 
special  characteristics  may  be  appreci- 
ated. He  is  certainly  not  fit  for  the  dirty 
business  of  this  work-a-day  world  ;"  and 
saying  this,  he  took  the  piece  of  silk  out 
of  Mark's  hands,  and  proceeded  to  meas- 
ure off  and  mark  the  dresses  as  Mr. 
"Watson  had  directed. 

It  happened,  unfortunately,  as  perhaps 
some  may  think,  that  the  same  afternoon, 
a  lady  whom  Mark  had  already  served 


A   TRIAL   OF   PRINCIPLE.  117 

to  several  things,  happened  to  catch 
sight  of  one  of  these  dresses  lying  on 
the  counter.  She  immediately  asked  to 
look  at  it,  inquired  the  price,  and  then 
said,  "You  are  quite  sure  as  to  the 
quantity,  I  suppose  ?" 

Mark  hesitated:  Mr.  Watson  was 
standing  near  •  but  Mark  could  not  tell 
a  direct  lie. 

"Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  measure 
it  ?"  said  the  lady. 

Mark  took  up  the  measure ;  but  at 
^that  moment  Charlie  Archer  came  for- 
ward, and  taking  it  out  of  Mark's  hand, 
said  in 'his  most  polite  manner,  "I  meas- 
ured these  very  dresses  by  Mr.  Wat- 
son's desire  this  morning,  so  that  I  am 
quite  sure  as  to  their  length  ;  but  still,  if 
you  desire  to  see  it  done,  ma'am,  I  shall 
have  no  objection  to  do  so  over  again.'' 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  the  lady, 
"your  word  is  quite  sufficient;  besides, 


118  MARK    STEADMAN. 

I  do  not  kn<v'y  ihat  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  '  one ;  I  rather  think  I 

will  consider  (  t  a  little,  and  wait  till 
1  le  season  is  ;  re  advanced." 

Charlie  Archer  added  a  few  more 
v,Tords  of  persuasion,  but  without  effect, 
for  the  lad}*  left  the  shop  without  making 
any  further  purchases. 

A  few  days  after  this,  Mark  was 
alarmed  by  a  message  that  Mr.  Watson 
desired  to  see  him  in  Miss  Finch's  par- 
lor. He  went  up  stairs,  and  with  fear 
opened  the  door ;  for  though  he  was  not 
conscious  of  having  done  any  thing 
wrong,  yet  the  very  idea  of  a  private 
interview  with  his  uncle  made  him  feel 
timid  and  uncomfortable. 

"I  wanted  to  speak  to  you,  Mark," 
began  Mr.  Watson,  "because  the  time 
is  so  nearly  expired  for  which  I  engaged 
you  on  trial.  In  many  respects,  I  have 
been  very  much  pleased  with  you ;  but 


A  THIAL  OF  P1UNCIILE.  119 

there-  thing  which   I   fear  will 

greatly  stand  i,i  your  way,  and  prevent 
your  ever  1  -ning  an  efficient  assistant 
and  good  man  of  uu-iucss.  I  do  riot 
wish  to  refer  to  air  .  ucular  circum- 
stances, but  what  i  mean  is  a  disposi- 
tion to  questio1  I  about  things. 
To  get  on  in  it  is  necessary 
to  act  with  ad  at  once,  without 
waiting  to  ;>  any  fanciful  notions 
or  scruples  of  conscience,  as  perhaps 
you  may  terra  them  ;  such  hesitation  and 
delay  ;  tys  fatal  to  success.  You 
mus  ilie  world  as  it  is,  and  deal 
with  it  in  its  own  way ;  3-011  can  neither 
make  it  what  you  would  like,  nor  can 
you  do  business  in  it  otherwise  than 
after  its  own  fashion.  For  my  own  part, 
I  much  regret  the  present  state  of  things, 
and  I  really  believe,  with,  all  the  talk 
there  is  about  the  spread  of  religion  and 
doing  good,  that  people  only  get  worse 


120  IIAliK    STKADMAN. 

arid  worse,  and  are  ready  to  take  advan- 
tage of  one  another  in  every  possible 
way.  That  being  the  case,  one  can  only 
look  out  for  oneself;  and,  as  I  have  said 
already,  much  as  I  deplore  the  neces- 
sity, yet  one  must  act  according  to  the 
way  one  is  treated  by  others.  Do  you 
understand  me  ?'7 

"I  do  not  exactly  know  wrhat  you 
mean  me  to  do,?J  said  Mark,  who  was 
but  little  given  to  analyze  motives,  but 
rather  judged  of  an  action  by  the  prompt 
verdict  of  a  conscience  cultivated  ac- 
cording to  the  principles  of  God's  word. 

"Why,  I  should  have  thought  you 
might  have  seen  it,"  replied  his  uncle,  a 
little  impatiently.  "What  I  mean  is, 
that  I  cannot  have  you  disputing  and 
questioning  about  what  you  have  to  do 
here.  There  is  nothing  I  hate  so  much 
as  a  prig,  and  I  never  will  have  one  in 
my  establishment.  I  have  told  you  al- 


A  TRIAL  OF  PRINCIPLE.  121 

ready  that  I  have  the  best  and  soundest 
reasons  for  all  I  wish  you  to  do — rea- 
sons which,  with  your  ignorance  of  the 
world,  you  may  not  be  able  to  enter 
into ;  I  wish,  therefore,  to  come  to  an 
understanding  with  3^011  at  once,  and  let 
you  see  plainly  that  I  am  not  going  to 
suffer  my  way  of  doing  'business  to  be 
called  in  question  by  you,  and  con- 
demned as  not  being  in  accordance  with 
some  weak  notions  you  may  have  in 
your  head,  or  as  in  opposition  to  some 
trivial  precept  you  may  have  learned  in 
the  Sunday-school,  which  was  only  in- 
tended to  be  applied  to  a  bo}T's  conduct, 
and  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
business  affairs." 

"But  surely,  sir,  you  allow  that  each, 
man  ought  to  consider  his  own  actions, 
and  avoid  what  is  wrong  for  himself?  I 
did  not  mean,  I  assure  you,  to  judge  of 
yours  in  any  way,"  said  Mark. 


122  MARK   STEADMAN. 

"That's  a  mere  Dibble,"  replied  Mr. 
Watson.  "If  jonscience,  or  what- 

ever you  call  i  ill  not  allow  you  to 
do  >  ..at  I  tell  you — you,  in  your  refusal, 
jud  i»nd  condemn  me;  and  that  is  a 
species  of  priggishness  that  I  never  will 
end 

"  must  think  of  whether  a  thing  is 
righ  or  wrong  for  myself  before  I  do 
it,"  answered  Mark. 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  said  his  uncle, 
"you  need  n't  pretend  to  teach  me  that ; 
I  am  not  referring  to  your  private  ac- 
tions, only  to  what  you  do  as  my  assist- 
ant." 

Mark  was  silent  for  a  moment.  He 
could  not  quite  see  why  he  was  to  cheat 
and  tell  a  lie  for  his  uncle,  and  yet  hes- 
itate to  do  the  same  for  himself:  and  he 
feared  that,  apart  from  the  sin  in  either 
case,  the  habits  might  so  grow  upon  him 
that  he  should  before  lono;  lose  his  sense 


A   TRIAL   OF   PRINCIPLE.  123 

of  integrity  in  all  the  relations  of  life. 
Before  he  co'^d  speak  again, -however, 
liis  uncle  continued: 

"I  would  willingly  keep  you,  Mark, 
on  many  accounts.  You  are  a  steady 
lad,  not  like  ror.-iy  now-a-days,  and  I 
should  b'^  glad  to  help  vour  mother,  for 

o 

she  is  a  good  ;  and  the  way  she 

has  kept  you  ail  since  your  father's 
death,  without  applying  to  his  relations, 
does  her  -.'Teat  credit.  I  also  take  into 
account  that,  having  been  brought  up 
by  IK  .  >ur  ideas  would  naturally  be  a 
little  romantic:  women  always  like  to 
inculcate  all  kinds  of  exalted  sentiments 
that  are  wholly  useless  when  one  gets 
out  in  the  world.  Now,  I  think  if  you 
do  not  make  any  perverse  endeavor  in 
your  own  mind  to  retain  these  impres- 
sions, they  will  all  wear  away  in  a  little 
time,  and  then  yon  will  make  a  valua- 
ble assistant.  Mr.  Green  is  leaving  me 


124=  MARK   STEADMAN. 

soon,  and  I  should  raise  your  position 
and  salary." 

"But,"  said  Mark,  "what  I  am  most 
afraid  of  is,  lest  my  ideas  of  right  and 
wrong  should  become  in  any  way  changed, 
and  lest  I  should  be  overcome  to  seek 
my  own  interests  instead  of  endeavoring 
to  serve  God.  If  I  did  stay  with  you, 
sir,  this  is  just  what  I  should  try  the 
most  to  watch  and  guard  against." 

"Then,"  replied  his  uncle,  "I  have 
nothing  more  to  say.  I  have  told  you 
my  opinions,  and  have  taken  some  pains 
to  explain  them  to  you.  Perhaps  expe- 
rience may  make  you  see  these  things 
in  a  different  light.  Hitherto  your  pecu- 
liarities have  stood  little  in  your  way — 
nay,  very  likely  you  have  heard  your- 
self praised  for  them ;  but  when  you 
find  how  hard  it  is  to  get  on  now-a- 
days,  and  how  impossible  sometimes  to 
get  bread  to  eat  even,  you  will  find  that 


A  TRIAL  OF  PEINCIPLE.  125 

all  which  I  have  said  is  perfectly  true, 
and  you  will  bitterly  repent  your  pres- 
ent folly." 

Mark  left  the  room,  his  mind  thor- 
oughly disturbed  and  confused.  He 
longed  for  solitude  to  think  out  the  ideas 
thronging  in  upon  him,  among  the  most 
prominent  of  which  was  the  feeling  that 
God  no  longer  blessed  and  prospered 
the  righteous,  but  that  it  was  the  wrong- 
doer whose  evil  works  were  crowned 
with  success.  Fortunately  for  him  in 
his  present  frame  of  mind,  instead  of 
dwelling  on  these  thoughts,  he  was 
obliged  immediately  to  throw  himself 
into  active  occupation,  and  thus  when 
the  evening  came  and  he  was  left  to 
himself,  his  excitement  had  in  some 
measure  subsided.  Then  he  began  calm- 
ly to  consider  whether  it  really  was  im- 
possible to  serve  both  God  and  mam- 
mon, and  if  so,  whether  there  were  not 


126  MARK  :     DM  AN. 

a  certain  hardness  njustice  in  the 

fact  that  in  yielclL  ,ole  alliance 

to  God,  the  make-.  all  the  earth,  in 
whose  hands  were  all  its  blessings,  he 
should  thereby  suffer  the  loss  of  his  sit- 
uation, and  of  >peared  to  him,  the 
only  means  b\  he  might  provide 
for  himself  and  ht  p  his  family. 

Mark  did  not  know  that  this  was  the 
very  question  which  had  so  perplexed 
David,  and  that  the  same  difficulty  had 
also  presented  itself,  at  SOL  e  time  or 
other,  to  almost  every  one  who  has  ear- 
nestly desired  to  serve  God,  .ipted 
him  to  cry  out  in  the  bitteriic,.^  of  his 
depression,  "How  doth  God  know?  and 
is  there  knowledge  in  the  Most  High  ? 
Behold,  these  are  the  ungodly  who  pros- 
per in  the  world  ;  the}'  increase  in  riches. 
Verily  I  have  cleansed  my  heart  in 
vain,  and  washed  my  hands  in  innocen- 
cy."  But  when  the  psalmist  went  into 


A  TRIAL  OF  PEINCIi-iliJ.  127 

(lie  house  of  God,  then  he  was  CL:  bled 
o  understand  better  the  purpose  oi  God 
in  the  arrangement  of  those  thL  lieh 
concern  our  lives  upon  earth,  liu  saw 
then  that  the  ungodly  are  often  set  on 
high  slippery  places  to  their  own  de- 
struction ;  and  tha,t  the  distribution  of 
the  treasures  of  this  world  does  indeed 
lie  in  the  hand  of  God  alone,  but  that 
they  are  used  by  him  not  as  mere  re- 
wards for  right  actions,  but  as  part  of 
a  grand  system  of  training,  by  which 
the  souls  of  those  who  trust  in  Him  are 
continually  prepared  more  and  more  to 
live  in  another  world  than  this;  for  this 
"  mcctness  for  heaven  "  does  not  consist 
in  any  peculiar  magical  transformation, 
but  in  the  daily  growth  within  us  of  all  • 
those  qualities  which  are  there  most 
highly  esteemed,  and  are  needful  for 
entering  into  the  employments  and  pleas- 
ures of  that  higher  sphere.  Such  quali- 


128  MARK    STEADMAN. 

fications  for  living  in  that  world  as  love, 
self-denial,  patience,  unbounded  trust  in 
God,  humility,  courage,  sincerity,  are 
all  the  fruits  of  that  training  which  God 
here  provides  for  us ;  and  this  world  is 
ours  not  in  the  sense  of  possession,  but 
in  that  it  supplies  all  .the  materials  which 
are  needed  for  this  cultivation.  It  was 
when  David  saw  this  that  he  could  cry 
out,  notwithstanding  the  prosperity  of 
the  wicked  and  the  trials  of  the  right- 
eous, "Nevertheless,  I  am  continually 
with  thec :  thou  hast  h olden,  me  by  my 
right  hand.  Thou  shalt  guide  me  with 
thy  counsel,  and  afterward  receive  me 
to  glory." 

It  was  not  possible  for  Mark,  who 
knew  so  little  of  life,  cither  in  himself 
or  others,  and  had  never  experienced 
the  beneficial  effects  of  trial  in  his  own 
character,  to  understand  at  once  what 
was  the  meaning  of  the  fact  which  now 


A  TEIAL  OF  PRINCIPLE.  129 

surprised  and  pained  him  ;  but  he  turned 
from  the  perplexing  consideration  of  it 
to  look  up  to  God  in  that  faith  which  is 
possible  to  all.  "Is  it  true,"  thought 
he,  "that  one  cannot,  as  I  once  thought, 
meet  with  the  reward  of  honesty  and 
diligence  in  earthly  prosperity  and  suc- 
cess ?  But  still  God  is  above  all ;  he  is 
our  Father,  and  it  must  be  for  some 
wise  reason  that  all  my  best  efforts  have 
ended  in  failure.  One  can  only  press 
on  in  the  same  way,  for  his  favor  is  bet- 
ter than  life,  and  our  Saviour,  when  he 
was  temptad  to  make  the  supply  of  his 
wants  his  first  thought,  replied:  "Man 
shall  not  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by 
eveiy  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  God." 


Mark  EtviKimtn. 


130  MARK   STEADMAN. 


CHAPTEK   VIII. 

As   is  THE    MASTER,   so   is  THE 
SERVANT. 

IT  happened  one  day,  a  short  time 
after  Mark's  conversation  with  his  uncle, 
that  when  he  entered  the  sitting  room  to 
dinner,  he  found  his  companions  busy 
discussing  the  merits  of  some  entertain- 
ment, a  bill  of.  which  they  held  in  their 
hands. 

"  It  is  a  first-rate  affair,  I  know,"  said 
Mr.  Cocks,  as  Mark  took  his  seat  at 
table;  "and  I  should  think  even  Mr. 
Steadman  would  have  no  scruples  of 
conscience  at  attending  such  a  thing  as 
this." 

"  Combining  instruction  and  amuse- 
ment," said  Charlie  Archer,  "with  noth- 
ing to  offend  the  most  fastidious  taste  j" 


MASTER   AND   SERVANT.  131 

and  lie  handed  Mark  the  bill  of  an- 
nouncement. 

Mark  looked  at  the  bill,  and  saw  that 
the  entertainment  was  a  lecture  on  the 
Music  of  England,  illustrated  by  con- 
certed pieces  of  different  periods.  "I 
should  think  it  would  be  very  nice," 
said  he  ;  "  and  I  should  like  very  much 
to  go." 

"It's  first-class,  I  know,"  asserted 
Mr.  Cocks  again,  "and  every  body 
ought  to  hear  it." 

"Suppose  we  take  a  family  ticket, 
and  go  in  style  for  once,"  suggested  Mr. 
Green;  "you  see  we  can  have  one  to 
admit  four  to  the  reserved  seats  for  ten 
shillings  ;  that  will  be  only  half-a-crown 
apiece." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  go,"  said  Mark 
suddenly. 

"Why  upon  earth  not?"  exclaimed 
all  three  of  the  young  men  at  oncg. 


132  :,IA11K   STEADMAX. 

"Because  I  can't,"  replied  Mark; 
"I'm  very  sorry,  but  it  is  quite  impos- 
sible." 

"Trust  your  good  people  for  being 
disagreeable,"  said  Mr.  Cocks;  "it's 
just  what  they  delight  in." 

"Indeed,"  replied  Mark,  "it  is  not 
that ;  I  should  like  to  go  very  much  in- 
deed, if  I  could  ;  I  do  not  mean  that  I 
see  any  harm  in  it,  only  I  cannot,  that 
is  all." 

"He  can't  because  he  can't,"  said 
Charlie  Archer;  "and  that's  a  reason 
that  no  one  can  answer;  so  let  him 
alone." 

Just  then  a  call  from  the  shop  sum- 
moned Mr.  Cocks  away,  and  nothing 
more  passed  on  the  subject  during  the 
meal. 

In  the  evening  Mark  paid  a  visit  to 
Mr.  Locke,  and  with  some  difficulty 
made  Ji  his  mind  to  consult  him  about 


MASTER   AND    SERVANT.  133 

his  future.  Mr.  Locke  fully  approved 
all  that  Mark  had  said  to  his  uncle,  but 
he  suggested  to  him  that  probably  Mr. 
AVatson  might  yet  be  unwilling  to  lose 
him  as  an  assistant,  for  he  must  at  any 
rate  feel  that  he  could  depend  on  Mark's 
honesty  and  integrity  as  regarded  him- 
self and  any  thing  intrusted  to  his  care ; 
and  this  he  Blight,  in  thinking  it  over, 
regard  as  so  valuable  a  qualification  that 
he  would  consent  to  dispense  with  an 
implicit  obedience  to  those  directions 
which  Mark  could  not  conscientiously 
comply  with.  Mark  himself  had  little 
hope  of  this,  and  it  wanted  but  a  few 
days  now  when  the  six  months  of  his 
probation  with  his  uncle  would  be  over. 
When  Mark  returned  home,  he  found 
to  his  surprise  Charlie  Archer  in  the 
parlor,  for  it  was  seldom  that  either  of 
these  young  men  spent  an  evening  in 
the  house.  As  Mark  entered,  hej;hrew 


134  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

down  the  book  lie  had  been  reading,  and 
exclaimed:  "I'm  thankful  to  see  a  fel- 
low-creature at  last ;  for  here  I  've  been 
for  the  last  hour,  poring  over  one  of 
Green's  stupid  novels  with  the  most 
awful  headache,  and  no  one  to  speak  a 
word." 

"I  should  have  thought  you  would 
have  been  glad  to  have  been  quiet,"  said 
Mark,  "if  your  head  is  so  bad." 

"I  dare  say  you  would,"  replied  Ar- 
cher; "but  quiet  does  not  suit  me.  I 
am  not  fond  of  reflection,  unless  it  is 
some  very  agreeable  anticipation  of  the 
future." 

"It's  a  good  thing  sometimes,  when 
one  has  nothing  better  to  do,  to  review 
oneself  a  little,"  said  Mark. 

"That,  I  have  no  doubt,  is  a  highly 
agreeable  occupation,"  answered  Ar- 
cher, "when  one  looks  in  and  sees  eve- 
rything arranged  in  perfect  order,  so 


MASTER  AND   SERVANT.  135 

that  one  can  stand  and  admire  the  grat- 
ifying result  with  a  pleasing  glow  of  sat- 
isfaction ;  but  unfortunately  that  is  not 
my  case.  If  I  ever  venture  to  glance 
within,  I  see  such  a  jumble  of  matters, 
good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  all  thrown 
together  in  such  hopeless  confusion,  that 
I  hastily  draw  back,  and  rush  off  to 
something  more  entertaining.  I  dare 
say  now  with  you  it  is  otherwise  ;  and 
I  remember  once  when  I  used  to  enjoy 
thinking  what  a  good  little  boy  I  was." 

"  I  should  suppose  that  was  when  you 
knew  less  of  yourself  than  at  present 
even,"  said  Mark. 

"That's  very  true;  I  certainly  did 
know  very  little  of  myself  in  those  days," 
replied  Archer ;  ' '  but  you  see  other  peo- 
ple thought  I  was  a  very  excellent  boy, 
and  so. I  easily  persuaded  myself  that  it 
was  true." 

"  When  was  that?"  asked  Mark. 


136  MARK    STEADMAN. 

"Oh,  years  ago ;  quite  in  the  dark 
ages!"  said  Archer.  "I  was  at  school 
then,  and  the  masters  and  many  of  the 
boys  were  what  yon  would  call  decided 
Christians,  and  so  I  fell  in  with  the  rest. 
I  found  it  was  easy  and  pleasant  to  do 
so ;  and  hearing  good  things  often  talked 
about,  and  good  feelings  so  often  de- 
scribed, I  in  a  certain  way  adopted  them 
all  for  my  own,  and  had  grand  ideas  of 
preaching  the  gospel  to  others,  and  go- 
ing out  as  a  missionary  to  distant  lands. 
I  fancied  I  liked  self-denial,  and  I  thought 
I  should  find  all  the  world  just  like  those 
who  were  then  around  me.  My  father 
was  a  missionary,  but  he  and  my  mother 
both  died  in  India,  and  I  was  sent  home 
to  my  uncle.  He  had  a  large  family  of 
children  of  his  own,  and  could  not  afford 
to  spend  much  upon  me ;  at  least  so  he 
always  said:  but  he  sent  rne  to  school, 
and  there  also  I  passed  most  of  my  holi- 


MASTEK   AND    SEKVANT.  137 

days  too,  for  there  was  generally  some 
reason  why  I  could  not  return  to  his 
house.  Towards  the  end  of  the  last  half 
year,  I  wrote  him  a  very  fine  letter,  in 
which  I  set  forth  in  a  highly  exalted 
st}<le  my  desire  to  devote  myself  to  the 
conversion  of  the  heathen  in  distant 
lands.  I  thought,  when  I  had  written 
it,  that  it  was  a  beautiful  production, 
quite  fit  to  be  inserted  in  the  memoir  of 
myself,  which  I  had  no  doubt  would  be 
written  a'fter,  of  course,  my  early  death. 
To  my  surprise,  my  uncle  appeared  to 
regard  it  in  quite  a  different  light.  He 
wrote  back  a  few  lines,  to  say  that  the 
whole  scheme  was  absurd  ;  that  there 
were  no  means  of  rny  going  to  college, 
but  that  I  must  bestir  myself  at  once  to 
get  my  own  living,  and  put  all  such  fan- 
tastic ideas  out  of  my  head." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?"  asked  Mark. 

"  It  was  a  great  blow  to  me  at  first,  I 


138  MARK    STEADMAN. 

must  confess,"  continued  Archer,  "to 
find  that  those  ideas  and  feelings  I  had 
been  used  to  think  so  praiseworthy  were 
not  held  as  such  by  all  the  world.  Still, 
I  knew  that  good  people  often  were  per- 

* 

secuted,  and  so  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  was  going  to  be. 

"  Yery  soon  there  came  another  let- 
ter from  my  uncle,  telling  me  that  he 
had  found  a  situation  for  me  in  Bristol, 
in  a  linen-draper's  shop.  I  really  was 
no  hypocrite,  Steadman,  what'ever  you 
may  think.  I  assure  you  this  was  a 
bitter  disappointment  to  me,  though  of 
course  it  was  all  nonsense  about  being  a 
missionary,  and  I  see  now  that  my  uncle 
was  quite  right." 

"But,  Archer,"  said  Mark,  "you 
could  have  served  God  as  well  in  a  dra- 
per's shop  as  in  a  heathen  land." 

"So  my  master  at  the  school  kept  tell- 
ing me,"  replied  Archer;  "but,  some- 


MASTER  AND   SERVANT.  139 

how,  it  seemed  altogether  a  different 
affair  to  me.  Still,  I  came  here  with 
some  ideas  of  being  an  example  to  all 
my  other  companions,  and  of  teaching 
and  benefiting  them.  "When  I  arrived, 
however,  I  found  they  treated  me  at 
once  as  just  like  themselves.  This  rather 
put  me  aback ;  I  had  expected  to  be 
persecuted  ;  but  finding  they  discovered 
nothing  to  laugh  at  in  me,  I  was  very 
careful  that  they  should  continue  to  treat 
me  so  pleasantly.  Very  soon  I  found 
that  it  was  easier  to  amuse  them  than  to 
improve  them ;  so  I  gave  up  the  latter 
idea '  altogether.  I  am  not  like  you, 
Steadman ;  you  let  us  see  the  first  night 
you  came  what  you  were ;  but  I  must 
confess  I  have  not  your  courage." 

"Why,  Archer,"  began  Mark,  "I 
should  have  thought  that  you  didn't 
care  for  what  any  one  said  of  you,  you 
are  so  ready  always  with  an  answer, 


140  MABK   STEADMAN. 

and  can  turn  the  laugh  against  any  one 
who  attacks  you  directly.  Now,  for 
me,  I  really  find  it  the  most  difficult 
thing  very  often  to  get  the  words  I 
know  I  ought  to  speak  out  of  my  mouth. 
Oh,  you  don't  know  what  hard  work 
this  has  been  to  me  since  I  have  been 
here ;  and  I  am  sure,  without  God's 
help,  I  never  could  have  got  on  at  all." 

Archer  was  silent  for  some  time, 
pressing  his  hands  to  his  forehead. 

After  a  while  he  said  suddenly : 
"Mark,  why -did  you  refuse  to  go  to 
the  entertainment  this  morning?  Do 
you  imagine  there  can  be  anything 
wrong  in  it?" 

"My  reason  had  nothing  to  do  with 
that,"  said  Mark.  "  I  simply  could  not 
bring  myself  to  declare  openly  that  I 
was  so  ill-provided  with  money  when  I 
came  here,  that  I  have  not  even  half-a- 
crown  to  spare  now." 


MASTER   AND   SERVANT.  141 

"Oh,  that  was  it,"  said  Archer. 
"Well,  that  is  no  matter,  you  can  just 
borrow  that  of  Mr.  Watson." 

"But  1  do  not  like  to  ask  him,"  an- 
swered Mark,  "  especially  just  now." 

"You  need  not  ask  him  for  such  a 
trifle  as  that,"  replied  Archer.  "Take 
it,  man ;  you  can  pay  it  back  in  a  day 
or  two,  when  you  have  your  sal- 
ary." 

"  Take  it!"  exclaimed  Mark.  "What, 
from  the  shop  ?  Indeed,  Archer,  I  could 
not  do  such  a  thing.'' 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter?"  said  Ar- 
cher. "I  did  not  say,  Keep  it,  I  only 
suggested  to  you  to  borrow  it.  It  is  just 
what  everybody  does  ;  only  you  are  so 
green  and  ignorant." 

"  But  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  bor- 
rowing it,  unless  Mr.*  Watson  lent  it. 
"No  man  has  a  right  to  help  himself  to 
another's  property  without  his  leave," 


142  MARK   STEADMAN. 

replied  Mark.     "  Oh,  I  am  certain  it  is 
not  right." 

"Well,"  returned  Archer,  "you  may 
argue  about  it,  but  Mr.  Watson  cannot 
complain  ;  for,  as  you  yourself  know,  he 
takes,  not  bo?*rows,  from  his  customers, 
half  a  yard  of  silk,  worth  half-a-crown, 
besides  numbers  of  other  things  of  the 
same  kind,  which  he  cannot  make  up  to 
them  in  any  way.  Now  I  cannot  agree 
with  Green  altogether,  who  considers 
that  if  he  stops  away  from  supper  a  few 
nights,  he  thus  repaj^s  Mr.  Watson  for 
what  he  may  have  borrowed  ;  and  I  think 
he  estimates  the  expense  his  supper 
would  be,  if  he  ate  it  here,  too  highly. 
If  I  take  any  thing,  I  keep  an  account 
of  it,  and  put  it  back  most  scrupulously 
as  soon  as  I  get  my  salary.  Why,  if  you 
chose,  you  can  even  pay  interest.  But 
I  shall  have  less  necessity  for  borrowing 
again,  for  I  am  to  have  Green's  situation 


MASTER   AND   SERVANT.  343 

and  salary  when  he  goes  ;  and  you  I 
suppose  will  step  into  mine." 

"No,"  replied  Mark,  "I  shall  leave 
next  week.  My  six  months  are  up  then, 
and  Mr  Watson  does  not  wish  me  to 
stay." 

"  Indeed  !"  exclaimed  Archer.'  "  How 
is  that?" 

"Why,  I  dare  say  you  will  think  it 
very  foolish,"  said  Mark  :  "  but  I  cannot 
agree  to  do  every  thing  he  wishes,  with- 
out any  consideration  whether  it  is  right ; 
and  he  says,  therefore,  I  shall  never 
make  a  good  salesman,  and  I  had  better 
leave  at  once." 

"Foolish!  I  should  think  it  was,"  re- 
plied Archer.  "Don't  go,  Mark  ;  you'll 
find  it  far  harder  than  you  think  to  get 
another  situation,  and  besides,  in  many 
places  you  might  have  far  worse  things 
to  do.  Make  up  your  mind  to  it ;  one 
must  live  in  the  world,  and  it  will  all 


144  MARK   STEADMAN. 

come  right  by-and-by,  and  easy  enough 
to  you.  Remember  what  I  have  told 
you  about  Hi}Tself." 

"Archer,"  began  Mark  gravely,  "I 
do  not  in  the  least  believe  you  were  a 
hypocrite  then  ;  I  believe  you  really  felt 
all  you 'thought  you  did,  in  a  certain 
way  ;  but  I  am  sure  you  did  not  then 
feel  exactly  the  same  as  I  do  now." 

"And  how  is  that?"  asked  Archer. 

"Why,"  said  Mark,  "I  have  never 
had  such  good  thoughts  as  you  describe 
about  going  out  as  a  missionary,  and 
perhaps  I  have  thought  too  little  about 
doing  good  to  others  ;  but  I  feel  as  though 
no  life  could  be  so  insupportable,  as  one 
in  which  I  should  be  called  upon  in  any 
way  to  offend  God,  and  to  break  the 
commands  of  Him  who  has  been  beyond 
all  expression  good  to  me,  in  that  he 
gave  his  life  that  I  might  live,  and  has 
helped  me  in  ways  that  I  cannot  tell 


MASTER   AND   SERVANT.  145 

you  about.  How  could  I  agree  to  any- 
thing, then,  which  I  know  is  displeasing 
to  my  best  friend  and  Saviour  ?" 

"Mark,"  replied  Archer,  "you  are 
too  good  for  this  world,  that 's  the  fact. 
One  must  live,  as  you  will  find  by-and- 
by.  Miracles  of  loaves  and  fishes  don't 
happen  now-a-days." 

"Why  did  you  once  wish  to  be  a  mis- 
sionary?" asked  Mark. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Ar- 
cher; "because  I  knew  no  better,  I 
believe.  I  fancied  then  that  it  was  a 
fine  thing,  for  I  often  heard  it  spoken  of 
in  this  way,  and  I  thought  I  should  like 
to  be  the  best  thing  I  could  be,  and  I 
expected  every  one  would  think  I  was 
very  good  to  wish  for  it.  It  was  some- 
thing like  that." 

"Archer,"  began  Mark  again,  after  a 
little  silence,  "I  think — I  am  afraid  at 
least — I  do  not  know — but  I  cannot 

11.-.  k  .-tf-adman.  19 


146  MAKE    STEADMAN. 

understand  tliis  being  your  only  feeling 
about  it." 

"I  know  what  yon  want  to  say  per- 
fectly well,  my  good  fellow,  with  all 
your  'thinks'  and  'afraids'  and  'can't 
understands.'  You  .want  to  tell  me'," 
said  Archer,  "that  you  do  not  believe  I 
ever  did  really  understand  religion,  or 
took  it  up  as  a  thing  of  the  life  and 
heart — that  there  was  no  principle  in 
me.  Well,  perhaps  it  was  so ;  at  any 
rate,  I  have  given  up  the  idea  now,  and 
cannot  begin  the  same  thing  again  here : 
after  all,  these  things  are  very  uncer- 
tain ;  I  must  take  my  chance." 

"0  Archer,"  said  Mark  earnestly, 
"how  can  you  speak  so?  Surely,  if  you 
look  at  it  merely  in  the  light  of  self- 
interest  ;  if  you  only  believe  that  there 
is  a  heaven  and  a  hell,  and  a  way  to  en- 
ter the  one  and  escape  the  other,  it  is  of 
deep  importance  to  us  to  know  what  that 


MASTER   AND   SERVANT.  147 

way  is ;  and  it  is  worth  while,  at  any 
cost,  to  enter  upon  it,  and  to  strive  to 
walk  in  it.  Even  if  you  do  not  regard 
the  claims  which  G-od  has  upon  us  to 
accept  by  faith  the  salvation  he  has 
offered  us  in  his  Son,  and  to  give  our- 
selves up  to  his  service,  yet,  for  the  sake, 
of  our  own  souls,  it  is  a  serious  matter 
to  reject  and  trifle  with  these  things.  Do 
not  be  angry  with  me,  Archer,  but  I  do 
think  that  you  never  have  really  known 
what  it  is  to  feel  oneself  as  a  sinner, 
utterly  lost  as  regards  heaven,  or  a  true 
life  in  this  world,  until  Jesus  takes  one 
up,  and  gives  one  life  and  joy  and  hope." 

"Ah,  Steadman,"  said  Archer,  rising, 
"I  am  a  bad  subject,  I  believe,  and  my 
head  is  splitting,  so  I  must  really  be  off 
to  bed.  Good  night." 

Mark  looked  vexed  as  Archer  took  up 
a  candle  and  was  leaving  the  room.  Just 
as  he  had  reached  the  door,  however,  he 


US  MARK    STEADMAN. 

hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  coming 
back,  he  put  his  hand  on  Mark's  shoul- 
der, and  said : 

"Don't  look  so  grieved,  old  fellow  ;  I 
am  not  in  the  least  hurt  at  any  thing  you 
can  say  to  me,  and  there — well — I  try 
to  brave  it  off  as  well  as  I  can ;  but  if 
it  is  any  consolation  to  you,  I  assure 
you,  since  you  have  been  here,  I  have 
thought  a  great  deal  about  my  own  con- 
dition, and  bothered  myself  finely  at 
times.  I  know  I  am  all  wrong,  but  I 
feel  as  though  I  should  never  be  any 
thing  different." 

"  0  Archer,"  said  Mark,  "indeed  you 
need  not  think  so,  I  am  sure— 

"Never  mind.  Good  night,"  inter- 
rupted Archer,  and  left  the  room. 

A  new  and  strange  feeling  took  pos- 
session of  Mark's  mind  that  night.  It 
was  the  first  time  that  he  had  realized 
that  he  might  exercise  an  influence  for 


MASTER   AND   SERVANT.  149 

good  over  others.  He  had  always  been 
so  accustomed  to  look  on  himself  as 
among  the  learners,  rather  than  the 
teachers,  thai  he  had  scarcely  regarded 
it  as  possible  that  he  could  produce  any 
impression  on  another  mind,  or  direct  in 
any  way  its  thoughts  or  feelings.  Now 
an  earnest  sentiment  of  pity  filled  his 
soul,  which  was  in  itself  both  sweet  and 
painful,  as  he  thought  over  the  state  of 
his  companion ;  and  he  felt  as  though  he 
could  do  or  suffer  any  thing,  so  that  only 
Archer  might  be  brought  to  know  and 
feel  those  truths,  the  possession  of  which 
was  all  the  world  to  himself.  He  knew 
that  the  power  and  love  of  the  Good 
Shepherd  could  be  extended  to  every 
wandering  sheep ;  and  Mark  earnestly 
besought  the  Saviour  that  night,  to  bring 
this  wanderer  into  the  holy  and  happy 
number  of  his  flock. 


150  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

CHAPTEE   IX. 

THE   ^SCARLET  FEVER. 

"HE  must  be  removed  at  once,"  were 
Miss  Finch's  decisive  words  to  Mr.  Wat- 
son, as  she  descended  the  staircase  with 
him  on  the  following  morning. 

"We  will  wait,  at  any  rate,  till  Dr. 
Long  comes,"  replied  Mr.  Watson  ;  "but 
I  think  myself  there  ?s  no  doubt  that  it 
is  scarlet  fever." 

"It  is  always  desirable  to  act  with 
promptitude,"  said  Miss  Finch.  "De- 
lays in  these  cases  are  most  dangerous : 
lodgings  must  be  taken  for  him  at  once." 

"Perhaps  it  might  be  well  to  make 
inquiries  in  the  neighborhood,"  answered 
Mr.  Watson.  "But  it  won't  do,  of 
course,  to  have  it  known  that  there  ;s  a 
case  of  scarlet  fever  in  the  house,  or 


THE   SCARLET   FEVEE.  151 

every  one  will  be  afraid  to  come  near 
the  shop.  If  it's  only  a  slight  attack, 
1  should  think  you  might  manage  to 
keep  it  all  quiet  up  stairs.  Archer  is 
too  useful  to  me  to  be  able  to  afford  to 
lose  him  out  of  the  house.  We  do  n't 
know  when  we  might  get  him  back 
again." 

"And  what  is  to  become  of  us?"  ex- 
claimed Miss  Finch  in  horror.  "I  assure 
you,  Mr.  Watson,  I,  for  one,  could  not 
possibly  remain  in  a  house  where  there 
was  scarlet  fever.  It  is  the  most  infec- 
tious of  epidemics." 

"  But  I  dare  sa}r  you  had  it  when  you 
were  y — ,  I  mean,  some  years  ago,"  said 
Mr.  Watson,  correcting  himself  before 
he  had  spoken  that  word,  which  Miss 
Finch  abhorred  almost  as  much  as  the 
scarlet  fever. 

"That  maybe,"  replied  Miss  Finch, 
"but  people  never  are  safe;  and  I  as- 


Io2  MARK   STEADMAN. 

sure  you,  Mr.  Watson,  no  power  on  earth 
will  induce  me  to  remain  another  night 
in  the  house,  if  that  young  man  is  to  be 
ill  here  with  the  scarlet  fever." 

"I  never  said  he  was  to  remain," 
replied  Mr.  Watson,  somewhat  impa- 
tiently. "If  it  is  likely  to  be  a  bad 
case,  of  course  he  must  go.  I  only  want 
to  consider  what  would  be  the  best  for 
the  business.  I  expect  Dr.  Long  will 
be  here  directly,  and  until  he  comes  I 
shall  do  nothing." 

Here  Mr.  Watson  entered  the  door 
into  the  shop ;  and  Miss  Finch,  who  sup- 
posed she  ought  not  to  go  out  until  the 
doctor  had  called,  in  case  Mr.  Watson 
might  wish  her  to  make  some  further 
arrangements  about  lodgings,  went  into 
her  room,  (which  was  on  the  same  floor 
as  her  parlor,)  and  putting  on  her  bon- 
net, cloak,  and  furs,  she  returned  to  her 
sitting-room,  and  throwing  open  both 


THE    SCARLET    FEVEH.  153 

the  windows,  allowed  the  bleak  Decem- 
ber blast  to  blow  through  the  room, 
while  she  sat  in  the  farthest  corner  shiv- 
ering with  cold  and  fright,  utterly  re- 
gardless that  there  were  any  sufferings 
which  it  might  be  in  her  power  to  relieve, 
or  any  one  in  the  house  needing  a  kind, 
cheering  word. 

Due  caution  in  regard  to  infectious 
diseases  is  more  than  merely  prudent, 
it  is  right,  and  the  duty  of  every  Chris- 
tian. There  is  something,  in  fact,  that 
seems  to  offer  defiance  to  God  in  that 
reckless  spirit  which  fancies  itself  secure 
from  every  risk  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
where  the  danger  is  very  slight,  and  the 
duty  very  apparent,  surely  such  fears 
are  not  only  the  result  of  a  contempti- 
ble cowardice,  but  are  utterly  repugnant 
to  that  true  spirit  of  self-forgetfulness, 
of  Which  Christ  himself  was  the  most 
noble  example. 


154:  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

Mark  had  heard  at  breakfast-time  that 
Archer  was  not  well,  but  he  was  busy 
in  the  shop  all  the  morning,  and  was 
therefore  greatly  surprised  and  grieved 
when  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  he  was 
told  that  Archer  had  been  removed  from 
the  house  to  lodgings  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

"And  ver}r  thankful  I  am  sure  we 
may  all  be,  Mr.  Steadman,"  said  Miss 
Finch,  who,  in  answer  to  Mark's  inqui- 
ries for  his  friend,  communicated  to  him 
this  intelligence,  "that  this  step  has  been 
taken  at  once,  for  Dr.  Long  says  that  it 
is  likely  to  be  a  severe  attack.  I  only 
hope  we  may  none  of  us  already  have 
taken  the  infection.  For  my  part,  I 
have  kept  the  windows  of  my  apartment 
open  the  whole  day,  and  am  now  going 
to  the  chemist  to  purchase  fumigating 
powder."  • 

"But  is  there  any  one  with  Archer?'' 


THE   SCAKLET   FEVEK.  155 

asked  Mark.  "I  am  afraid  lie  lias  no 
friends  who  could  come  to  him." 

"An  excellent  nurse  'has  been  pro- 
vided, Mr.  Steadman,"  replied  Miss 
Finch;  "and  you  may  be  sure  she  will 
pay  him  every  proper  attention,  and 
carefully  pursue  the  course  recommend- 
ed by  our  esteemed  medical  attendant." 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  that  exactl}7"," 
said  Mark. 

"Of  course  no  one  in  this  house  will 
be  allowed  to  go  near  him,  Mr.  Stead- 
man,"  said  Miss  Finch.  "  Indeed,  I  be- 
lieve Mr.  Watson  wishes  that  the  address 
of  the  lodgings  should  not  be  mentioned 
in  the  house,  in  order  to  prevent  any 
kind  of  communication.  I  do  not  even 
know  it  myself." 

"I  should  not  think  of  going  there 
while  I  am  here,"  answered  Mark. 
"There  would  be  the  danger  of  carry- 
ing the  infection  to  others ;  for  myself, 


156  MARK    STEADMAN. 

I  should  not  be  afraid,  as  we  all  had  the 
scarlet  fever  at  home  a  few  years  ago." 

"You  never  can  be  too  safe,"  said 
Miss  Finch.  "My  opinion  in  such  mat- 
ters is,  that  the  first  duty  of  everybody 
is  to  take  care  of  himself." 

"  If  every  one  did  so,  what  would  be- 
come of  people  when  they  were  ill,  Miss 
Finch  ?"  Mark  ventured  to  suggest. 

"Of  course  I  did  not  refer  to  doctors 
and  nurses,  Mr.  Steadman,"  replied  Miss 
Finch  ;  "  they  are  paid  for  the  risk  they 
run." 

Mark  said  no  more,  for  a  feeling  of 
deep  sadness  filled  his  mind,  such  as  he 
had  seldom  before  experienced,  at  the 
thought  of  Archer's  being  so  ill,  and  with 
no  friend  near  him  to  speak  a  word  of 
hope  or  consolation  to  his  troubled  spirit. 
Only  last  night  Mark  had  stayed  awake, 
fancying  all  that  he  would  say  to  Ar- 
cher the  very  next  time  he  could  get  an 


THE    SCAKLET    FEVER.  157 

opportunity  of  talking  with  him.  Then 
this  opportunity  had  seemed  so  probable 
and  easy ;  but  now  he  should  be  leaving 
Bristol  in  a  few  days,  and  would  most 
likely  never  see  his  companion  again. 
How  he  wished  now  that  he  had  only 
known  yesterday  of  this,  or  that  he  had 
earlier  endeavored  to  become  better  ac- 
quainted with  him,  and  had  spoken  more 
openly  to  him  of  the  danger  he  was  run- 
ning in  trifling  with  such  solemn  realities 
so  deeply  concerning  his  own  personal 
welfare.  Mark  felt  as  if  he  had  been 
perhaps  so  much  occupied  in  fighting  his 
own  battles,  as  to  be  unconscious  that 
beside  him  was  a  comrade  wounded  and 
beaten  down  in  the  combat,  and  needing 
the  aid  of  a  friend. 

Two  or  three  days  passed  by,  and 
Mark  could  obtain  no  news  of  Archer. 
Miss  Finch  was  quite  laid  up  with  a  very 
severe  cold,  which  she  had  taken  in  con- 


158  MAKE    STEADMAN. 

sequence  of  exposing  herself  to  the  cold 
air  from  the  open  windows  in  her  anxi- 
ety to  escape  the  least  chance  of  infec- 
tion from  the  fever ;  which,  considering 
the  age  of  the  good  lady,  and  that  she 
was  to  some  extent  protected  by  having 
already  had  the  disease,  was  certainly 
choosing  the  worst  evil  of  the  two ;  the 
one  being  nearly  imaginary,  the  other 
real.  Archer's  place  had  been  already 
temporarily  supplied,  and  Mr.  Watson 
had  said  nothing  to  Mark  as  though  he 
wished  to  retain  him  after  his  time  was 
up,  which  would  be  on  Friday.  He  had 
therefore  written  to  his  mother,  telling 
her  that  he  expected  to  go  home  on 
that  day. 

On  Wednesday  Dr.  Long  called,  and 
wished  to  see  Mr.  Watson.  Immediate]}^ 
after  his  departure,  Mark  went  to  his 
uncle,  full  of  anxiety  to  hear  some  news 
of  poor  Archer.  The  account  which  his 


THE    SCARLET   FEVER.  159 

uncle  gave  him  was  most  distressing. 
Dr.  Long  thought  verv  bacllv  of  the  case. 

v 

and  gave  but  slight  hope  of  recovery ; 
the  object  of  his  call  on  Mr.  Watson  was 
to  inquire  whether  none  of  the  young 
man's  friends  could  come  to  him.  He 
was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  skill 
and  attention  of  the  nurse,  but  consid- 
ered that  the  patient's  present  symp- 
toms were  aggravated  by  the  depression 
of  mind  which  came  upon  him  at  every 
return  of  consciousness.  Mr.  Watson 
had  told  Dr.  Long,  that  on  the  first  day 
of  Archers  illness  he  wrote  to  his  uncle 
at  his  request,  but  had  since  received  a 
letter  from  him,  wishing  Mr.  Watson  to 
see  that  his  nephew  had  every  thing 
necessary,  but  also  adding  that  in  con- 
sequence of  his  own  young  family,  it 
would  be  impossible  that  either  he  or 
his  wife  could  come  to  him. 

"It  is  very  sad,"  concluded  Mr.  Wat- 


160  MAKK    STEADMAN. 

son.  "  I  am  sure  I  would  gladly  go  and 
see  him  if  I  could,  but  I  should  be  afraid 
for  my  own  children  at  home ;  and  be- 
sides, it  would  not  do  on  account  of  the 
customers :  you  see  people  are  so  very 
particular.''' 

A  general  depression  seemed  to  come 
over  every  one  in  the  house  as  this  sad 
news  was  known.  Scarcely  a  word  was 
spoken  at  the  dinner-table,  for  they  all 
remembered  how  Charlie  Archer  had  so 
lately  been  the  very  life  of  the  party, 
and  how  his  lively  remarks  had  always 
served  to  call  forth  a  laugh  from  his 
companions,  and  to  keep  them  amused. 
The  ideas  of  terror  and  gloom  which 
most  of  them  associated  with  death,  made 
the  contrast  of  his  present  condition  all 
the  more  striking  to  them,  as  they  recol- 
lected his  late  vivacity.  And  more  than 
that,  the  suddenness  with  which  this 
awful  summons  had  come  to  one  who  a 


THE    SCARLET   FEVEK.  1Q1 

day  or  two  ago  appeared  as  imlikety  to 
receive  it  as  any  of  them,  could  not  fail 
to  produce  an  impression  upon  their 
minds  in  reminding  them  how  closely 
they  might  be  advancing  to  the  borders 
of  another  world,  the  qualifications  for 
which  were  of  a  very  different  nature 
from  those  by  which  thej^  were  hoping 
to  succeed  in  this  life.  The  great  truths 
on  which  depend  our  future  destiny  as- 
sumed a  very  different  aspect  now  from 
that  of  mere  dogmas,  which  might  be 
made  the  subjects  of  irreverent,  trivial 
discussions,  and  which  were  to  be  re- 
ceived or  not  as  fancy  or  fashion  might 
dictate. 

As  for  Mark,  his  mind  was  so  com- 
pletely occupied  with  what  he  had  been 
told  of  the  state  of  his  poor  friend,  that 
he  could  scarcely  attend  to  any  thing 
else  ;  but  at  last,  after  much  thought  and 
pra}Ter,  he  formed  the  resolution  of  going 

Ma.k  Ste«.!m.-u>.  11      ' 


1G2  MAEK   8TEADMAN. 

to  him,  if  possible,  immediately  on  leav- 
ing his  uncle's,  hoping  that  he  might,  by 
God's  help,  be  of  some  use  and  comfort 
to  him.  But  first  of  all  he  thought  it 
right  to  ask  his  mother's  advice  and  per- 
mission, because  he  felt  he  could  not 
cause  her  any  anxiety  on  his  own  ac- 
count without  her  consent,  though  he 
fancied  he  knew  pretty  well  what  she 
would  say.  He  wrote  her  a  very  long 
letter  therefore,  that  evening,  and  told 
her  all  the  particulars  of  Archer's  ill- 
ness, his  friendless  state,  and  described 
also,  as  well  as  he  could,  what  had  pass- 
ed between  them  the  evening  on  which 
he  was  first  taken  ill.  Having  done 
this,  he  felt  he  could  only  wait  patiently 
till  Friday  came,  and  he  should  be  free. 

On  Friday  morning  he  received  the 
following  letter  from  his  mother. 

"MY  DEAREST  MARK:  I  have  been 
thinking  a  great  deal  over  your  long 


THE  SCARLET    FEVEK.  163 

letter  which  I  received  this  morning. 
At  first  I  almost  felt  as  though  I  must 
go  myself  at  once  to  that  poor  young 
man ;  but  this,  you  know,  is  impossible, 
as  I  could  not  leave  the  business  here. 
I  seem  as  though  I  could  think  of  noth- 
ing else  all  day  but  his  being  alone 
there  in  that  sad  condition,  with  nobody 
near  him  to  speak  a  word  of  the  mercy 
and  grace  of  the  blessed  Saviour.  My 
dear  Mark,  I  could  not  tell  you  not  to 
go  to  him ;  if  there  was  any  relative  that 
could  be  with  him  the  case  would  be 
different,  but  if  God  wishes  to  send  a 
message  to  his  soul  by  you,  my  dear 
son,  how  could  I  bid  you  not  to  take  it? 
I  have  thought  about  it  and  I  have 
prayed  about  it;  and  this  afternoon  I 
saw  Mr.  Lewis  passing  by,  who  attended 
all  of  jrou  when  you  had  the  scarlet- 
fever  three  years  ago,  and  I  asked  him 
what  he  thought  about  it,  and  he  says, 


164  31  ARK    STEADMAN. 

my  dear,  that  the  risk  would  be  next  to 
nothing  for  you,  as  you  had  it  so  lately  ; 
but  still,  you  had  better  take  proper 
precautions  to  keep  in  good  health.  He 
asked,  why  didn't  they  send  for  a  cler- 
gyman or  minister  to  see  him  ?  but  I 
know  in  illness  that 's  a  word  here  and 
a  word  there,  just  as  the  sick  person 
wants  it  and  can  hear  it,  which  is  of  use. 
Very  often  if  any  body  comes,  it  ?s  at 
the  wrong  time,  and  sometimes  a  long 
conversation  with  a  stranger  is  very  bad 
for  the  patient;  besides,  I  expect  you'll 
find,  my  dear,  that  the  poor  fellow  is 
out  of  his  head  most  of  the  time,  and 
it's  only  just  now  and  then  that  you 
may  be  able  to  say  a  word  to  comfort 
him ;  and  then  if  yon  are  there,  and  you 
find  he  would  like  to  see  any  one,  you 
can  send  at  once.  I  hope  and  pray  that 
God  will  direct  you  for  the  best  in  every 
thing.  I  have  generally  found  in  ill- 


THE    SCARLET    FEVER.  165 

ness  that  it  is  n't  so  well  to  read  much — 
just  a  verse  or  so  repeated  now  and  then 
is  much  more  comforting  and  not  so 
tiring,  because  you  see,  my  dear,  when 
people  are  ill  their  minds  are  as  differ- 
ent as  can  be  from  when  they  are  well. 
If  I  were  you,  I  would  just  try  continu- 
ally to  keep  the  blessed  Saviour  before 
him,  as  though  he  was  indeed  a  true, 
living,  loving  friend,  standing  by  and 
saying  now,  just  as  much  as  when  he 
was  on  earth,  '  Come  unto  me,  all  ye 
that  labor,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.' 

"If  there's  any  thing  3*011  want  to 
know  about,  or  if  there  Js  any  thing  I 
can  send  you  from  home  that  you  think 
the  clear  lad  would  like,  you  let  me 
know  at  once.  I  do  wish  I  could  come 
to  him,  poor  fellow ;  I  suppose  he  hard- 
ly ever  knew  his  mother,  from  what  you 
say;  but  she  was  a  good  woman,  and 
died  busy  about  the  Lord's  work,  so 


166  MARK    STEADMAX. 

you  may  depend  upon  it  he  wo  n't  de- 
sert her  bo}r.  I  have  no  doubt  there  's 
many  of  her  prayers  yet  to  be  answered 
for  him,  that  she  put  up  when  he  was 
but  a  little  baby.  I  thought  of  so  many 
things  I  wanted  to  say  to  you,  but  they 
seem  all  gone  out  of  my  head  now :  you 
must  write  to  me  eveiy  day,  1113-  dear 
Mark,  and  let  me  know  how  you  are 
getting  on,  for  I  shall  be  so  anxious  to 
hear ;  and  if  you  feel  the  least  bit  ill  in 
any  way,  be  sure  you  tell  the  doctor 
directly.  You  may  be  certain  I  shall 
be  always  praying  for  you  and  for  Mr. 
Archer  too.  God  bless  you,  my  dear- 
est boy. 

"Your  ever  loving  mother, 

"MAKY  STEADMAX." 

On  the  receipt  of  his  mother's  letter, 
Mark  went  at  once  to  Mr.  Watson,  and 
told  him  of  his  intention  of  going  to  take 
care  of  Archer  instead  of  returning  home 


THE  SCAELET  FEVER.  1G7 

that  day,  as  he  had  previously  decided 
to  do. 

"It  is  very  kind,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr. 
Watson;  "and  as  your  mother  wishes 
it,  I  do  not  see  any  objection.  I  hope 
you  will  find  that  he  has  every  thing 
which  is  necessary ;  but  if  he  wants  any 
thing  he  has  not  already,  I  beg  you  will 
just  send  me  a  line  to  let  me  know." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

"And  I  may  as  well  say  now,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Watson,  "that  I  shall  always 
retain  a  high  opinion  of  your  character, 
Mark,  and  if  you  hear  of  another  situa- 
tion, I  shall  be  very  happy  to  say  all  I 
can  for  you.  Indeed,  if  you  were  wish- 
ing to  go  into  a  bank  now,  or  any  place 
of  trust,  I  should  not  object  to  stand 
security  for  you,  which  is  more  than  I 
would  do  for  any  other  young  man  I 
know,  now-a-days.  I  do  not  think  you 
are  fit  for  our  line  of  business,  as  I  told 


168  MAllK    8  Ti;  A  DM  AX. 

you  before,  and  I  am  sorry  for  it:  still, 
if  I  had  n't  this  very  morning  engaged  a 
first-class  salesman  in  Green's  place,  I 
would  not  mind  keeping  you  another 
six  months,  just  to  see  if  you  wouldn't 
get  accustomed  to  it.  What  you  want 
is  to  see  a  little  more  of  the  world  and 
its  Vf&ys,  and  then  you  would  not  think 
so  much  of  your  own  opinions.'' 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Mark;  "then 
in  taking  another  situation,  you  will 
allow  me  to  refer  any  one  to  you." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Watson;  "I 
shall  be  most  happy  to  say  what  I  know 
of  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  soon  hear 
of  something  to  }Tour  mind,  and  get  on 
well.  In  the  meantime,  you  will  do  well 
to  think  over  all  I  have  said  to  you,  and 
sooner  or  later  you  will  find  it  is  quite 
true." 

Mr.  Watson  then  gave  Mark  the  ad- 
dress of  Archer's  lodgings,  and  wishing 


THE  SCAHLET   FEVER.  169 

him  good-by,  left  him  to  pack  up  his 
box:,  ready  to  be  sent  round  to  him. 

As  Mark  put  in  his  things,  he  could 
not  help  thinking  of  the  evening  six 
months  ago,  when  he  had  watched  his 
mother,  as  she,  far  more  carefully  than 
he  was  doing,  fitted  one  package  after 
another  into  that  box,  while  he  stood 
beside  her,  full  of  hopes  and  fears  as  to 
the  future,  neither  of  which  he  had  found 
to  be  realized.  He  had  trembled  then, 
as  he  thought  how  hard  it  would  be  for 
him  to  maintain  the  life  of  a  Christian 
amid  so  many  opposing  influences,  and 
he  had  greatly  feared  lest  in  the  end  he 
might  be  led  to  deny  Christ,  and  make 
shipwreck  of  his  faith ;  mingled  with 
these  fears  were  dreams  of  hope  as  to 
all  that  he  would  do  and  become. 

Mark  had  hoped  that  by  industry  and 
honesty  he  should  make  himself  so  val- 
uable to  his  uncle,  that  he  would  rise 


170  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

by  degrees,  until  he  became  a  partner 
in  the  firm.  Then  his  mother  was  to 
give  up  her  business  to  his  brother  Jo- 
seph, and  to  come  and  live  with  him  in 
rest  and  plenty  for  the  remainder  of  her 
days.  But  how  strangely  different  it 
had  all  been !  Instead  of  rising  to  a 
higher  situation,  his  uncle  did  not  even 
consider  him  fit  for  the  one  he  held,  and 
predicted  no  success  for  him  in  the  fu- 
ture. As  for  supporting  his  mother,  he 
was  returning  to  be  a  burden  upon  her, 
though  he  determined  that  this  should 
be  only  for  a  short  time.  The  advan- 
tages which  he  had  fancied  were  his,  in 
having  so  prosperous  a  relative  as  Mr. 
AYatson,  had  turned  out  to  be  just  noth- 
ing at  all ;  and  he  found  that  instead  of 
depending  on  the  power  of  his  uncle  to 
help  him  forward  and  advance  his  posi- 
tion, he  could  only  still  repeat  the  daily 
prayer  of  his  childhood  to  his  Father  in 


THE  SCARLET  FEVEE.  171 

heaven,  "Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread."  On  the  other  hand,  he  had 
learned  two  great  lessons  in  regard  to 
his  former  fears  and  fancies  about  the 
world.  One  was,  that, in  enterino;  into 
a  sphere  of  danger,  m  obedience,  not  to 
our  own  inclinations,  but  to  the  call  of 
duty,  we  ma}'  fully  depend  on  the  prom- 
ise of  God,  that  for  every  temptation 
which  we  may  meet  with  there,  he  can 
and  will  grant  a  corresponding  sufficien- 
cy of  grace  to  enable  us  to  resist  it ;  and 
having  this  divine  strength  within  us, 
we  shall  prove  the  truth  of  that  saying, 
"Greater  is  he  that  is  in  you,  than  he 
that  is  in  the  world." 

The  second  lesson  he  had  been  taught 
did  much  to  correct  his  previous  notions, 
as  to  what  the  world  really  was.  He 
no  longer  regarded  it  as  some  strange 
monster,  which  "to  be  hated,  needs  but 
to  be  seen.'"'  On  the  contrary,  he  dis- 


172  MARK    STEADMAN. 

covered  so  much  in  his  own  nature  which 
constantly  disposed  him  to  sympathize 
with  its  opinions,  tastes,  and  feelings, 
that  he  felt  convinced  that  the  enemy 
he  needed  to  Ayateh  and  pray  against 
was  not  some  new  foreign  foe,  but  in 
fact  a  part  of  himself,  which  he  must 
carry  about  with  him  wherever  he  might 
be.  Let  him  live  where  he  might,  if  he 
yielded  to  this  side  of  his  frail  nature, 
he  would,  he  felt  sure,  become  worldly ; 
for  "the  world  "  was  nothing  more  than 
an  assemblage  of  people  who  thus  lived  ; 
the  only  difference  to  himself  being,  that 
in  their  company  the  temptation  to  give 
way  was  much  stronger  than  when  sur- 
rounded by  those  who  were  animated 
by  a  higher  principle,  and  the  struggle, 
therefore,  to  live  the  life  of  a  citizen  of 
heaven  so  much  the  harder. 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.      173 

CHAPTEE  X. 

THE  VISITOR  AND  THE  jSicK  PENITENT. 

IN  the  afternoon,  about  two  o'clock, 
Mark  -having  said  "Good-by"  to  his 
companions,  and  having  been  admitted 
to  a  farewell  visit  to  Miss  Finch,  who 
was  now  well  enough  to  be  reclining  on 
the  sofa  in  her  sitting-room,  dressed  in 
a  robe-de-chambre  of  scarlet  flannel,  left 
his  uncle's  house,  and  proceeded  to  Ar- 
cher's lodgings.  He  had  very  little  idea 
of  what  he  should  do  when  lie  got  there, 
but  the  desire  to  comfort  and  help  his 
friend  was  strong  within  him,  and  he 
trusted  that  the  best  way  to  do  this 
would  be  made  plain  to  him  when  the 
time  came.  He  had  scarcely  ever  seen 
any  one  ill ;  and  his  idea  of  sick  per- 
sons, and  of  what  they  did  and  said,  was 


174  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

principally  gathered  from  various  books 
which  he  had  read.  He  therefore  fan- 
cied that  Archer  would  at  once  begin  to 
speak  to  him  of  his  state  of  mind  as 
clearly  and  sensibly  as  though  he  were 
well,  and  that  he  would  be  ready  at  any 
time  to  hear  Mark  read,  or  say  any  thing 
he  thought  proper. 

Oh,  how  very  little  do  those  who  have 
never  known  severe  illness  imagine  how 
difficult  it  is  at  such  times  to  fix  the  mind 
on  any  subject,  even  though  the  most 
important  interests  may  be  involved  in 
it.  An  erroneous  impression  too  much 
prevails,  that  suffering  has  a  tendency 
in  itself  to  turn  the  mind  to  the  contem- 
plation of  heavenly  things  ;  whereas  the 
fact  is,  that  the  natural  effect  of  physical 
pain  is  to  deaden  the  feelings,  to  obscure 
the  understanding,  and  to  fix  the  atten- 
tion so  strongly  on  the  body,  as  to  cre- 
ate a  more  than  ordinary  indifference  in 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.       175 

regard  to  (he  soul.  It  is  readily  ac- 
knowledged, that  in  such  slight  indispo- 
sitions as  fall  to  the  lot  of  all  at  times, 
the  mind  is  unfit  for  its  usual  engage- 
ments in  the  affairs  of  life ;  but  it  is  not 
fully  realized  that  a  ;< sickness  unto 
death"  is  nothing  more  than  a  greatly 
aggravated  state  of  weakness,  pain,  and 
incapacity  of  just  the  same  nature,  being 
only  different  in  degree.  Ask  any  prac- 
tical person — a  medical  man  or  a  nurse — • 
about  the  peculiar  clearness  and  percep- 
tion with  which  persons  are  supposed, 
in  the  last  hour,  to  see  things  in  a  v«ry 
different  light  from  when  in  health,  and 
to  feel  an  interest  in  subjects  to  which 
they  have  hitherto  been  perfectly  indif- 
ferent, and  they  who  have  been  con- 
stantly in  the  habit  of  watching  sickness 
and  death  will  answer  that  they  scarcely 
understand  what  you  mean. 

Some    accounts    have    been    written, 


176  MAKE.   STEADMAN. 

which,  because  they  are  so  rare,  have 
therefore  been  thought  worthy  of  record, 
of  the  death-beds  of  certain  individuals 
whose  eventide  has  been  brighter  than 
their  day ;  but,  general^  speaking,  even 
those  who  have  long  known  and  loved 
the  Saviour,  and  who  for  many  years 
have  been  living  on  earth  as  citizens  of 
heaven — even  these,  once  so  ready  to 
respond  to  every  holy  thought  and  sen- 
timent, exhibit  at  last,  when  the  percep- 
tions are  confused  and  dim,  and  sensa- 
tion fails,  less  of  that  vivid  interest  and 
emotion  which  they  displayed  in  health 
at  the  mention  of  that  precious  Name, 
and  in  every  thing  in  any  way  connected 
with  his  service. 

And  if  those  who,  during  their  life- 
time, have  often  been  constrained  to 
say,  "Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee, 
and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  de- 
sire beside  thee,"  find  that  when  heart 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.       177 

and  flesh  are  failing  they  are  less,  rather 
than  more  able  to  think  and  feel  as  they 
have  been  accustomed  to  Ho,  is  it  at  all 
likely  that  any  will  find  this  an  advan- 
tageous state  in  which  to  attempt,  for  the 
first  time,  to  direct  the  mind  to  a  subject 
hitherto  neglected  and  treated  with  in- 
difference, and  in  which  every  thing  has 
yet  to  be  discovered  and  learned?    It  is 
true  that  the  power  and  love  of  the  Sav- 
iour have  been  manifested  to  some  who 
have  long  rebelled  against  him,  even  in 
the  last  extremitj^ ;  but  let  none  imagine 
that  this  has  been  because  the  mind  was 
then  more  free  to  accept  this  mercy,  or 
more  capable  of  understanding  the  way 
of  salvation.     The  records  of  such  rare 
cases  are  only  designed  to  show  us  that 
forgiveness  through  Jesus  Christ  is  grant- 
ed to  all  who  seek  it  by  a  true  faith,  even 
to  the  very  verge  of  the  time  allotted  to 
us  on  earth ;  but  the  plain  fact  is,  that 

Murk    .—....- 


178  MARK   STEADMAN. 

very  few  who  have  lived  to  that  hour 
careless  and  unconcerned  have  any  wish 
or  power  to  seek  it  then. 

On  Mark's  arrival  at  Archer's  lodg- 
ings, he  asked  first  to  speak  to  the 
nurse,  who  appeared  to  him  a  very  in- 
telligent, gentle -looking  person,  very 
different  from  the  one  or  two  specimens 
of  the  same  class  which  he  had  previ- 
ously seen.  She  informed  him  that  his 
friend,  though  still  exceedingly  ill,  had 
seemed  more  conscious  during  the  day, 
and  better  able  to  take  nourishment. 
This  was  a  great  relief  to  Mark's  mind, 
for  he  had  feared  he  might  be  too  late  to 
be  of  any  use  to  the  poor  young  man. 
He  told  the  nurse  that  he  was  a  friend 
of  Archer's,  and  that  he  had  come  to 
stay  for  a  few  days  with  him.  She  seemed 
much  pleased  to  hear  this,  and  said  that 
she  thought  it  was  just  the  thing  that 
would  do  him  good  when  he  got  a  little 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.       170 

better.  She  then  went  up  stairs,  and 
coming  down  again  presently,  told  Mark 
that  Mr.  Archer  seemed  to  be  awake, 
and  she  thought  he  might  as  well  go  up 
and  see  him  at  once. 

Mark  was  startled  and  shocked,  as  he 
entered  the  room,  to  see  the  great  change 
which  the  few  days'  illness  had  made  in 
his  companion.  He  had  expected  to  see 
him  looking  thin  and  pale,  for  he  fancied 
that  every  one  appeared  thus  when  in 
illness;  but  as  he  took  a  seat  by  the 
bedside,  he  felt  as  though  he  were  about 
to  speak  to  a  stranger,  and  could  scarcely 
believe  it  was  really  Charlie  Archer 
whom  he  saw  before  him.  The  novelty 
of  the  situation,  and  the  unusual  appear- 
ance of  the  invalid,  quite  took  away  from 
Mark  the  power  of  saying  any  of  those 
things  which  he  had  previously  resolved 
on,  as  appropriate  to  the  occasion.  He 
sat  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence,  over- 


180  MAIIK   STEADMAN. 

come  by  a  strange  feeling  of  shyness  and 
incapacity,  until  the  nurse  called  Ar- 
cher's attention  to  him  by  saying,  "Here, 
sir,  is  a  friend  come  to  see  you.  You 
will  like  that  now,  won't  you?" 

Archer  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked 
at  Mark  for  a  minute  or  two,  as  Mark 
took  his  hand,  and  asked  him  how  he 
was. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Archer. 
"  How  did  you  come  here  ?" 

"I  came  here  on  purpose  to  see  if  I 
could  do  any  thing  for  you,"  said  Mark. 
"The  doctor  said  he  thought  you  would 
be  glad  to  have  some  one  with  you." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Archer.  "I 
don't  want  any  thing,"  and  turning  his 
head  wearily  on  the  pillow,  he  closed 
his  eyes  again.  Mark,  had  seldom  felt 
more  awkward  and  uncomfortable  in  his 
life.  He  did  not  in  the  least  know  what  to 
do,  where  to  go,  or  what  to  say.  He  still 


VISITOR  AND  SICK   PENITENT.       181 

had  the  strongest  desire  to  help  and  com- 
fort his  friend ;  but  yet  he  seemed  to  be 
of  no  use,  and  he  almost  wished  that  he 
could  go  away.  He  had  expected  that 
Archer  would  be  quite  overcome  with 
joy  at  seeing  the  face  of  a  friend  beside 
him  :  and  he  had  fancied  how  they  should 
almost  immediately  have  begun  to  talk 
of  those  things  which  he  thought  must 
so  much  oppress  Archer's  mind  in  his 
present  dangerous  condition.  But,  ex- 
cepting in  occasional  visits  to  the  sick- 
room, the  afternoon  was  spent  by  Mark 
alone  in  the  bedroom  which  had  been 
assigned  to  him.  Here  he  could  only 
pray  to  God  for  his  friend ;  and  feeling 
now  most  deeply  the  futility  of  all  human 
aid,  he  was  led  the  more  humbly  and 
entirely  to  cast  this  care  on  God,  and  to 
trust  wholly  to  the  infinite  power  and 
love  of  Christ  to  help  and  save,  even  at 
the  last  moment,  the  sinner  who  should 


182  MARK    STEADMAN. 

come  i  >  him.  Mark  remembered  those 
words,  "Him  that  comcth  to  me  I  will 
in  no  wise  cast  out,"  and  on  these  he 
endeavored  to  rest  his  hopes. 

About  six  o'clock  the  nurse  brought 
Mark  some  tea,  and  asked  him  if  he 
thought  she  might  go  out  for  half  an 
hour,  as  she  had  not  been  able  to  leave 
at  all  during  the  last  few  days,  and 
whether  he  would  mind  sitting  with  his 
friend.  Mark  was  only  too  glad  to  be 
employed,  and  to  find  that,  after  all,  he 
need  not  be  wholly  useless,  if  he  could 
do  no  more  than  relieve  the  nurse  occa- 
sionally. She  told  him  Archer  seemed 
to  be  asleep,  and  would  not  require  any 
thing  till  her  return,  as  she  had  given 
him  the  medicine  a  short  time  before, 
when  she  had  also  asked  him  if  he  would 
not  like  to  see  Mark,  but  he  had  not 
taken  any  notice  of  what  she  said. 

Mark    softly  entered    the   sick-room, 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.      183 

and  sat  down  near  the  door.  Here  he 
remained  for  some  time  in  perfect  silence, 
broken  only  by  the  sound  of  occasional 
footfalls  in  the  street,  the  dropping  of 
the  embers  from  the  fire,  or  the  opening 
and  shutting  of  a  door  below  stairs.  At 
length  two  or  three  restless  movements 
o.i  the  part  of  the  patient  caused  Mark 
to  get  up  and  go  towards  him.  He  fixed 
his  eyes  on  Mark  for  a  minute,  and  then 
he  said : 

"I  thought  it  was  all  a  dreain  that 
you  were  here." 

"  No,"  replied  Mark,  sitting  down  be- 
side him,  "it  was  no  dream ;  I  am  really 
here,  and  I  am  come  to  stay  with  you 
for  a  few  days,  to  see  if  I  can  be  of  any 
use  to  you ;  so  I  hope  you  will  order  me 
about  just  as  you  please." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Archer,  "I 
wanted  you  so ;  but  I  did  not  think  it 
could  be  true  that  you  were  really  here." 


184  MAJiK    HEADMAN. 

"Did  you?'7  exclaimed  Mark.  "0 
Archer,  I  would  have  come  if  I  could 
before  now,  but  I  only  left  Mr.  Watson 
this  afternoon.  I  am  so  glad  you  want 
me  to  stay." 

"Yes,  do  stay."  said  Archer  earnestly. 
"You  must  not  leave  me  again;  you 
won't,  will  you  ?" 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Mark;  "I  will 
stay  with  you  as  long  as  you  like,  never 
fear." 

"I  have  thought  of  you  many  times 
since  I  have  been  so  ill,"  said  Archer. 
"  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you,  but  my  head 
is  quite  lost,  and  I  do  n't  know  what  to 
say.  I  can't  even  think.  You  must 
talk  to  me." 

"Shall  I  repeat  a  hymn  to  you?" 
asked  Mark.  "  I  think  that  will  be  bet- 
ter for  you  than  talking,  perhaps." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Archer. 

Mark  then  repeated  the  beautiful  hymn: 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.      185 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  raging  billows  roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  nigh  : 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour  hide, 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past : 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide ; 

Oh,  receive  my  soul  at  last. 

"  Other  refuge  have  I  none, 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  thee  ; 
Leave,  ah,  leave  me  not  alone  ! 

Still  support  and  comfort  me. 
All  my  trust  on  thee  is  stayed, 

All  my  help  from  thee  I  bring ; 
Cover  my  defenceless  head 

With  the  shadow  <?f  thy  wing. 

"Thou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want ; 

More  than  all  in  thee  I  find  ; 
Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint, 

Heal  the  sick,  and  lead  the  blind. 
Plenteous  grace  with  thee  is  found, 

Grace  to  pardon  all  my  sin  ; 
Let  the  healing  stream  abound, 

Make  and  keep  me  pure  within." 


"Thank  yon,"  said  Archer,  when 
Mark  had  finished  ;  "that  is  enough." 

Mark  wanted  to  say  something  else, 
but  he  did  not  know  how  to  begin.  He 


186  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

found  it  so  difficult  to  decide  on  what 
was  just  the  right  thing  to  say;  but 
after  a  short  silence  he  said  with  some 
effort : 

"Archer,  if  you  are  at  all  afraid  that 
Jesus  Christ  will  not  save  you,  I  am 
quite  sure  that  you  need  not  be,  for  he 
is  only  waiting  for  you  to  put  your  soul 
into  his  hands." 

"  Yes,  Mark,  that  is  just  what  I  want- 
ed to  say,"  replied  Archer,  "only  my 
head  is  so  bad,  I  cannot  think  of  any 
thing.  I  was  going  to  say  that  it  was  of 
no  use  for  you  to  repeat  hymns  like  that 
one  to  me.  There  was  a  time  when  I 
think  I  might  have  been  able  to  enter 
into  it,  but  I  gave  it  all  up  for  the  sake 
of  getting  on  and  being  like  others. 
Only  the  other  day,  I  thought  what  a 
fool  you  were,  Mark,  to  leave  Mr.  Wat- 
son, and  I  was  so  pleased  that  he  had 
given  me  Green's  situation  ;  but  I  see  it 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.       187 

so  different!}'  now,  when  it 's  too  late, 
for  I  believe  it  's  all  over  with  me." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Mark  earnestly,  "I 
do  not  think  so.  I  don't  say  this  only 
just  to  comfort  you,  Archer,  but  I  do 
most  honestly  believe,  that  if  you  can 
only  just  give  up  your  soul  to  the  Sav- 
iour, and  trust  in  his  power  and  grace 
to  save  you  through  the  merits  of  his 
precious  blood  and  righteousness,  it  is 
not  too  late  for  you.  You  know  that 
1  now  is  the  accepted  time,'  not  any  par- 
ticular time  which  you  may  think  of, 
and  which  is  passed  away.  Try  to 
think  that  he  is  now  standing  close  to 
you,  waiting  to  say,  'Thy  sins  are  for- 
given thec.": 

"I  am  so  stupid  and  confused  that  I 
can  think  of  nothing,"  said  Archer, 
moving  restlessly,  "except  that  all  the 
past  keeps  coming  into  my  mind,  wheth- 
er I  will  or  no.  It 's  no  use,  Mark." 


188  MARK   STEADMAN. 

"But  whenever  the  past  comes  back," 
said  Mark,  "try  to  look  away  from  that 
to  Jesus,  and  try  to  realize  that  his  mer- 
cy and  merits  are  far  greater  than  our 
sins." 

"I  will  try,"  said  Archer;  "but  it  s 
all  np  with  me,  I  know." 

Just  then  the  nurse  returned,  and 
soon  after  the  doctor  paid  his  evening 
visit.  Mark  had  quite  hoped  from  what 
the  nurse  had  said  on  his  arrival,  that 
the  medical  man's  report  of  the  state  of 
his  patient  would  have  been  better  than 
it  was.  In  answer  to  Mark's  inquiries, 
Dr.  Long  shook  his  head,  and  said  he 
did  not  think  there  was  any  improve- 
ment; there  were  some  sj'mptoms  even 
which  he  thought  indicated  a  less  favor- 
able state  than  when  he  had  seen  him 
in  the  morning. 

Towards  night  the  delirium  returned, 
and  the  nurse  told  Mark  she  thought  he 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.       189 

had  better  leave  his  friend  and  go  to 
bed,  as  he  could  be  of  no  further  use 
then,  and  might,  after  some  hours'  sleep, 
be  able  to  relieve  her  for  a  little  time 
in  the  morning.  To  this  he  unwillingly 
consented,  the  nurse  having  promised 
to  call  him  immediately  if  any  change 
for  the  worse  should  occur. 

Mark  was  quite  certain  that  he  should 
not  be  able  to  sleep,  but  after  many  an 
earnest  supplication  that  God  would 
have  mercy  on  his  friend,  and  in  the 
last  hour  even,  reveal  to  him  pardon 
and  peace  through  Jesus  Christ,  he  fell 
asleep;  and  on  waking  found,  to  his  sur- 
prise and  annoyance,  that  it  was  already 
daylight.  jj^ 

The  account  which  he  received  from 
the  nurse  that  morning  was  very  bad. 
Archer  htid  passed  a  very  restless  night. 
He  was  now  quieter,  and  she  thought, 
more  conscious  \  but  during  the  last  few 


190  MARK   STEADMAN. 

hours  his  throat  had  become  so  much 
worse  that  it  was  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty she  could  induce  him  to  make  the 
effort  to  swallow  any  thing,  and  he 
seemed  also  to  have  almost  lost  the 
power  of  speaking. 

• 

Mark  sat  beside  him  for  some  time 
during  the  morning,  occasionally  repeat- 
ing a  hymn  or  some  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture, such  as  he  thought  might  tend  to 
calm  his  mind  and  direct  his  thoughts 

o 

to  the  Saviour.  He  could  not,  however, 
be  always  sure  that  Archer  understood 
what  he  said,  or  was  aware  of  what  was 
passing  around  him,  excepting  that  once 
or  twice  he  opened  his  eyes  and  fixed 
them  on  Mark  in-a peculiarly  earnest 
manner,  which  maue  the  nurse  think, 
that  though  less  capable  of  holding  com- 
munication with  others  than  yesterday, 
his  mind  might  yet  be  in  itself  more 
clear  and  conscious. 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.      191 

This  gave  Mark  courage  and  hope, 
and  strengthened  his  faith  in  the  belief 
that  God  would  hear  his  prayers  for  his 
poor  friend,  and  show  him  at  last  the 
greatness  of  the  power  and  mercy  of  the 
Saviour. 

The  visit  of  the  doctor  only  confirmed 
Mark's  worst  fears.  Soon  after  he  was 
gone,  Archer  appeared  to  sink  into  a 
stupor,  from  which  he  could  not  be 
roused  to  take  either  food  or  medicine, 
and  from  which  the  nurse  thought  he 
never  would  again  awake.  This  to  Mark 
was  very  painful,  but  he  felt  that  his 
friend  was  in  the  hands  of  One  whose 
love  far  exceeded  his  own,  and  that,  if 
it  was  never  granted  to  him  to  hear 
from  his  own  lips  that  he  had  at  last 
found  rest  in  the  power  and  mercy  of 
the  Saviour,  yet  he  could  not  but  trust 
that  this  salvation  had  been  made  known 
to  him  in  these  last  hours. 


192  MARK    STEADMAN. 

Mark  did  not  like  to  leave  the  house, 
though  he  did .  not  spend  the  whole  of 
that  long  day  in  the  sick-room.  When- 
ever he  could  relieve  the  nurse,  he  sat 
beside  his  friend ;  at  other  times,  by  Dr. 
Long's  advice,  he  stayed  for  a  while  in 
his  own  room,  so  as  to  get  a  little  change 
of  air.  But  he  found  it  difficult  to  em- 
ploy himself  in  any  way,  until,  at  last, 
he  began  to  write  a  letter  to  his  mother, 
telling,  her  that,  in  all  probability  he 
should  return  home  in  a  few  days,  and 
describing  all  that  had  passed  since  he 
had  been  with  Archer.  It  was  about 
five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  that  he  was 
thus  occupied,  when  the  nurse  called  to 
him ;  and  on  his  going  into  Archer's 
room,  she  told  him  that  she  believed  the 
last  change  was  come  on.  Mark  went 
up  to  the  bedside,  and  taking  his  friend's 
hand,  he  could  not  help  exclaiming  in- 
voluntarily, 


VISITOK  AND  SICK  PENITENT.       193 

"Oh,  Archer,  are  you  happy  now?" 
To  his  surprise,  Archer  once  more 
opened  his  eyes,  and  fixing  them  with 
an  earnest  gaze  on  Mark,  he  said  in  a 
low  whisper,  and  with  great  difficulty, 
"Is  that  you,  Mark?  God  bless  you! 
Jesus  has  been  with  me  all  this  clay. 
Into  his  hands  I  commit  my  soul." 

This  was  all;  but  it  was  more  than 
enough  for  Mark.  As  he  bent  clown, 
his  feelings  became  perfectly  uncontrol- 
lable, and  he  scarcely  knew  where  he 
was,  until  the  nurse  reminded  him  that 
it  was  all  over,  and  that  he  had  better 
leave  the  room.  He  found  it  almost 
impossible  to  realize  at  first  that  the 
anxiety  and  earnest  longing  of  the  last 
few  days  were  at  an  end,  that  he  need 
have  no  more  care  for  his  late  compan- 
ion, and  that  he  now  no  longer  needed 
those  prayers  which,  only  a  very  short 

time  since,  he  had  offered  up  so  earnest- 
Mark  Steodman.  13 


194  MAKE   STEADMAN. 

ly  on  his  behalf;  and  then  came  natu- 
rally the  remembrance  of  Charlie  Archer 
as  he  had  first  seen  him  only  six  months 
ago,  full  of  life  and  gayety,  having  appa- 
rently so  peculiarly  strong  a  hold  on 
this  life  ;  and  he  could  scarcely  persuade 
himself  that  all  this  had  passed  away  in 
so  brief  a  space  of  time.  But  from  this 
he  turned  to  the  remembrance  of  his  last 
words,  and  to  the  hope  that  he  was  now 
with  Christ  in  paradise.  This  seemed 
to  bring  heaven  very  near  to  himself; 
he  felt  as  if  he  too  had  been  to  the  gates 
of  the  new  Jerusalem,  though  it  was  not 
yet  permitted  to  him  to  enter,  but  given 
to  him,  rather,  still  to  fight  the  good 
fight,  and  to  serve  God  with  good  and 
true  service  upon  earth.  Oh,  that  he 
might  be  enabled  to  endure  to  the  end, 
and  to  be  found  busy  about  his  Master's 
work,  and  not  his  own,  when  he  should 
call  him ! 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.       195 

Mark  was  disturbed  from  such  thoughts 
and  feelings  as  these  by  a  visit  from  Dr. 
Long,  who  undertook  to  see  Mr.  Wat- 
son, and  make  all  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments. Mark  then  finished  his  letter  to 
his  mother,  and  fixed  to  return  home  by 
the  steamer  which  left  Bristol  on  Mon- 
day evening ;  and  though  he  would  have 
still  liked  to  follow  the  jearthly  remains 
of  his  friend  to  their  last  resting-place, 
yet  he  felt  sure  that  his  mother  would 
feel  anxious  if  he  remained  any  longer 
in  that  house,  and  would  desire  to  have 
him  with  her  now  as  soon  as  possible. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and 
Mark  sometimes  spoke  afterwards  of  this 
day  as  one  of  the.  happiest  of  his  life. 
There  was  such  a  calm  solemnity  about 
those  quiet  hours,  such  as  he  never  re- 
membered before  to  have  experienced. 
The  noise  and  strife  of  earth  were  so  far 
away,  and  the  joys  of  heaven  so  near, 


196  3IABK    STEADJIAN. 

that  it  seemed  a  light  thing  now  to 
"choose  rather  to  suffer  affliction  with 
the  people  of  G-od,  than  to  enjoy  the 
pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season ;"  and  Mark 
could  scarcely  believe  that,  only  so  short 
a  time  ago  he  had  thought  so  much  of 
this  world,  and  of  how  he  should  get  on 
in  it,  as  to  be  almost  tempted  to  give  up 
seeking  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
to  endeavor  rather  to  serve  his  own  in- 
terests, and  let  obedience  to  God[s  com- 
mands be  second  to  what  might  tend  to 
his  own  advancement.  Now  he  felt,  as 
he  had  never  done  before,  what  that 
"good  part'7  really  was,  and  how  bless- 
ed were  they  who  chose  it,  and  held  to 
it  through  life  to  death. 

In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Locke  called,  on 
his  return  from  his  Bible-class,  and  per- 
suaded Mark  to  come  out  with  him.  Mr. 
Locke,  as  has  been  already  said,  had  a 
peculiar  faculty  for  entering  into  and 


VISITOR  AND  SICK  PENITENT.       197 

understanding  the  ideas  and  feelings  of 
those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact, 
and  Mark  greatly  enjoyed  the  quiet  talk 
with  him  over  all  that  had  passed  during 
the  last  few  days.  He  insisted  on  bring- 
ing Mark  home  with  him  to  tea,  and  had 
this  meal  prepared  in  another  room  for 
Mark  and  himself,  in  order  to  avoid  any 
danger  of  infection  to  Mrs.  Locke  or  the 
children.  They  afterwards  went  togeth- 
er to  the  evening  service,  and  it  was 
with  deep  regret  that  Mark  bade  fare- 
well to  this  kind  and  true  friend. 


198  MAKE   STEADMAN. 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

THE   RETURN   HOME. 

THE  steamer  Avas  to  leave  the  Hot- 
Veils  at  the  early  hour-  of  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning;  and  at  ten  Mark  went  on 
board,  where,  after  supper,  he  made  him- 
self as  comfortable  as  he  could  for  the 
night.  The  weather  was  cold,  but  clear 
and  frosty ;  they  had  a  very  quiet  voy- 
age ;  and  at  about  nine  o'clock,  Mark, 
as  he  stood  on  the  deck,  again  caught 
sight  of  the  well-known  rocks  over  which 
he  had  so  often  clambered,  and  soon 
after  the  vessel  entered  the  harbor,  past 
the  pierhead  where  Captain  Jack's  black 
ball  announced  that  the  tide  would  per- 
mit them  to  go  up  to  the  town. 

Mark  looked  out  anxiously  along  the 
pier,  expecting  to  catch  a  sight  of  his 


THE    HETURN   HOME.  199 

uncle ;  but  on  arriving  at  the  quay,  the 
first  object  that  met  his  eye  was  his  sis- 
ter Mary,  with  the  good  captain  beside 
her,  waving  his  glazed  hat  with  every 
demonstration  of  welcome  and  joy.  The 
plank  was  scarcely  laid  clown  before  he 
had  hobbled  upon  the  deck,  and  seizing 
both  Mark's  shoulders  with  the  iron 
grasp  of  his  large  hands,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Thank  the  Lord  yon  're  safe  in  port 
again,  my  boy,  and  come  back  with  your 
colors  up.  I  can  ?t  say  we  're  not  all  very 
glad  to  see  you;  and  not  so  much  ashamed 
of  you  neither  as  might  have  been." 

And  as  Mark  followed  his  sister  on 
shore,  Captain  Jack  continued  to  exhibit 
his  intense  satisfaction  to  all  around  him 
by  a  succession  of  beaming  smiles,  sun- 
dry knowing  twitches  of  his  eyebrow, 
and  several  very  vehement  jerks  of  his 
elbow  in  the  direction  of  Mark. 

As  they  drew  nigh  to  the  house  where 


200  MARK    STEADMAX. 

the  little  Highlander  still  maintained  his 
post  at  the  door,  Mark  caught  sight  of 
his  mother,  and  hastened  across  to  greet 
her.  They  all  entered  the  house  to- 
gether. Mark's  first  business  was  to  do 
justice  to  the  comfortable  warm  break- 
fast which  his  mother  had  prepared  for 
him;  and  this  being  ended,  and  many 
inquiries  -made  and  answered,  Captain 
Jack,  taking  out  his  great  watch,  said, 

* 

"It  wants  three-quarters  of  an  hour  now 
of  the  time  when  she  '11  be  looking  out 
for  me  to  haul  her  down,  so  I  must  be 
soon ;  but  before  we  part,  I  should  like 
for  us  to  sing  the  121st  psalm,  common 
metre;  tune,  'London  Xew.' ? 

"To  heaven  I  lift  my  -waiting  eyes, 

There  all  my  hopes  are  laid  ; 
The  Lord  that  built  the  .earth  and  skies 
Is  my  perpetual  aid. 

"Their  feet  shall  never  slide  to  fall 

Whom  he  designs  to  keep ; 
His  ears  attend  the  softest  call, 
His  eyes  can  never  sleep. 


THE   RETURN   HOME.  201 

"He  •will  sustain  our  weakest  powers 

With  his  almighty  arm, 
And  watch  our  most  unguarded  hours 
Against  surprising  harm. 

"Israel,  rejoice,  and  rest  secure, 

Thy  keeper  is  the  Lord ; 
His  watchful  eyes  employ  his  power         * 
For  thine  eternal  guard. 

"He  guards  thy  soul,  he  keeps  thy  breath, 

Where  thickest  dangers  come  : 
Go  and  return,  secure  from  death, 
Till  God  command  thee  home. " 

Mark  had  been  scarcely  more  than  a 
fortnight  at  home,  when  he  was  sur- 
prised, one  day,  to  receive  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Watson.  It  was  very  short ;  but 
lie  stated,  in  a  few  words,  how  he  had 
discovered  that  he  had  been  defrauded 
to  a  considerable  extent  by  the  young 
men  in  his  employ;  that  he  was  now 
about  to  dismiss  those  he  had,  and  to 
engage  others;  and  he. wished  to  know 
whether,  if  Mark  had  not  yet  found  an- 
other situation,  he  would  return  to  him. 


202  MAKE    STEADMAN. 

"I  believe,"  concluded  he,  "that  your 
conscientiousness  is  a  genuine  article,  and 
not  an  inferior  imitation  which  will  not 
stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  circumstan- 
ce^ and  self-interest ;  and  if  you  consent 
to  return,  it  shall  be  on  no  conditions 
other  than  those  imposed  by  your  own 
conscience.  I  also  desire  that  you  should 
at  once  take  the  position  due  to  my 
nephew,  and  you  will  be  acknowledged 
as  such  by  me/' 

Of  course  Mark  decided  to  accept  his 
uncle's  proposal ;  and  very  thankful  in- 
deed did  he  feel  that  God  had  again 
opened  this  path  before  him,  for  he  was 
persuaded  that  it  was  quite  possible  to 
maintain  the  perfect  uprightness  of  char- 
acter demanded  by  the  law  of  God,  and 
yet  to  be  an  active,  clever,  and  by  God's 
blessing,  a  successful  man  of  business. 

It  will  not  be  necessary  to  follow 
Mark  again  to  Mr.  Watson's,  nor  to 


THE   RETURN   HOME.  203 

watch  hi  in  any  longer,  as  he  still  fought 
his  way  against  the  world,  the  flesh,  and 
the  devil.  We  have  seen  him  take  his 
first  step — and  it  was  but  the  first — in 
that  course  which  was  to  end  only  with 
his  life.  In  taking  this  first  step,  we 
have  remarked  the  great  advantage 
which  he  at  once  gained  by  letting  it  be 
seen  plainly  who  and  what  he  was  ;  what 
master  he  meant  to  serve  ;  what  he  real- 
ly believed,  and  meant  to  stand  to.  Had 
he  first  waited  to  see  what  opinions 
would  be  the  most  popular,  and  what 
course  of  action  the  most  approved,  the 
probability  is  that,  like  many  others, 
he  would  have  lost  his  ground  at  start- 
ing, and  have  never,  perhaps,  been  able 
to  recover  it  afterwards.  It  is  easy 
enough,  many  will  feel,  to  talk  or  write 
of  doing  this ;  but  only  those  who  have 
made  the  effort  know  how  hard  it  is  to 
enter  alone  among  the  ranks  of  the  ene- 


204  MARK    STEADMAN. 

my,  carrying  the  standard  of  the  cross. 
Yet  it  is  n6t  alone,  for  no  faithful  ser- 
vant of  Christ  ever  is  alone:  in  this  re- 
spect the  servant  has  an  advantage  over 
the  Master,  for  Christ  fought  that  battle 
alone  which  \ve  fight  by  his  side  and 
under  his  command.  He  came  into  the 
world,  dwelt  in  it,  mixed  among  the 
multitudes  thronging  the  great  highway 
of  life,  and  fulfilled  his  work  in  it,  yet 
was  not  of  it;  and  he  says  to  us,  "As 
the  Father  hath  sent  me  into  the  world, 
even  so  have  I  sent  you." 


LIFE  ILLUSTKATED  SEEIES, 


Helen  Maurice.  A  narrative  of  every-day  home  lile^ 
ITiree  Engravings. 

The  Glen  Cabin,  or  Away  to  the  Hills.  Exciting 
scenes  among  the  White  mountains.  With  Cuts. 

Dora  Hamilton.  The  experience  of  a  Merchant's  daugh- 
ter. Three  Cuts. 

Lilian.  A  tale  of  three  hundred  years  ago.  Four  En- 
gravings. 

The  Huguenots  of  France,  or  The  Times  of  Henry  IV, 
Some  of  the  most  stirring  incidents  of  history.  With  Cuts. 

Evelyn  Pereival.  Highly  interesting  sketches  and  char- 
acters drawn  from  life.  Three  Cuts. 

Ilverton  Kectory,  or  The  Non-conformists  of  the  Sev- 
enteenth Century.  Founded  on  fact.  Four  Engravings. 

Allan  Cameron.  The  eventful  life  of  a  Scottish  clergy- 
man's son,  developing  a  character  of  rare  beauty  and  noble- 
ness under  the  moulding  power  of  religion.  Illustrated. 

Walter  Martin.  Progress  through  obstacles  to  a  posi- 
tion of  great  usefulness.  Three  Cuts. 

Clayton  Allyn,  or  Learning  Life's  First  Lessons.  With 
Engravings. 

Save  the  Erring1,  or  The  Gospel  Purpose.  A  pleasing 
and  instructive  Narrative.  Three  Cuts. 

Effie  Morrison,  or  The  Family  of  Redbraes.  A  narra- 
tive of  truth.  With  Illustrations. 


2 

The  Weed  with  an  Ill-name.  Lessons  from  nature 
impressed  upon  the  heart.  With  Cuts. 

Our  Village  in  War-Time.  Thrilling  life-sketches,  in- 
culcating true  patriotism  and  piety.  Illustrated. 

The  Swiss  Children.  Welcome  to  the  little  exiles  from 
abroad.  Two  Cuts. 

The  Missing1  Boat.  The  perils  of  mischiet,  and  safely 
oi  true  repentance.  With  Cuts. 

Madeline.  The  history  of  a  New  England  girl.  Illus- 
trated. 

A  Little  More.  The  value  of  contentment.  Two  En- 
gravings. 

The  Lighthouse-Boy.     A  moral  lighthouse  for  boys. 

May  Coverley.  The  faithful  young  Dress-maker.  Illus- 
trated. 

Abel  Grey.  Raised  from  poverty  to  be  a  distinguished 
Musician.  With  Cuts. 

Down  in  a  Mine.  Thrilling  narratives  of  fact,  illustrat- 
ing the  Coal-miner's  mode  of  life,  his  dangers,  and  his 
security.  With  Engravings. 

The  Happy  Fireside.  Pleasing  glimpses  of  home  lifo 
in  a  model  Christian  household.  With  fine  Cuts. 

Kelly  Nash.    The  boy  who.' '  did  n't  think. "   Illustrated. 

Cheerily,  Cheerily.  An  original  American  book,  wor- 
thy of  a  place  in  every  family  library.  Three  Cuts. 

While  They  are  With  Us.  A  series  of  narratives  show- 
ing  our  duty  to  friends.  With  Engravings. 

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